Chapter Twenty-FiveFischer
Chapter Twenty-Five
Fischer
It turns out no matter how much you want to impress a girl, an introvert still only has so much social battery to work with.
And mine has basically run dry. Dinner is exhausting, and not just because Micah insists on torturing me the whole time by never letting a moment pass without touching me.
Her hand in mine. Her foot tucked behind my leg.
Her fingers on my thigh. It’s like she knows each trigger point to remind me that I kissed her, however briefly, in the backseat of my car.
And I am desperate to do it again.
That’s not to say dinner isn’t enjoyable.
Houston is surprisingly down-to-earth for a celebrity, and anytime someone brings up his World Series win, he deftly changes the subject.
He also pays for dinner, which I appreciate.
Grant doesn’t exactly pay me a lot. Brooklyn, though quiet, has a knack for making even an awkward guy like me feel welcome, asking a lot about the Greenwood opening in a couple of days.
The guy she’s with, Jordan, gets the whole table laughing whenever there’s a lull, and though I’m generally jealous of people who have natural charisma, he’s impossible not to like.
Kit’s probably my favorite, along with his wife.
I thought they were going to warn me off of Micah or something when she abandoned me to go inside, but he just told me that if ever I need a rescue from the Briggs clan, to give him a sign.
I sensed a kindred spirit in his wife, Skyler, and they both set me at ease.
I think I’m ready to get to the end of this date, though.
The part where I finally show Micah that I’m hers.
Every part of me. I’ve been wanting to kiss her again since the moment I gave in to temptation, and that little taste was enough to tell me I’m going to enjoy the chance to really find out what it’s like to kiss Micah Taylor.
“Everyone ready to go to Grey Bird?” Micah says after Houston pays the check.
I instinctually meet Kit’s eye, but he looks more intrigued than worried. “What’s Grey Bird?” he asks.
“Grey Bird Tavern,” Houston says. “And no, you don’t have a choice.”
A bar? That sounds like my worst nightmare.
“What if we’re ready to go back to our hotel?” Skyler asks, narrowing her eyes at Houston.
“You’ll just have to wait.” Brooklyn says this one, which means all three Briggs siblings are operating as a united front.
Jordan joins as an ally. “I’m down,” he says, putting an arm on the booth behind Brooklyn.
He hasn’t once touched her tonight, even though I’m pretty sure he and Brooklyn are interested in each other.
It’s more than a little intriguing, which is infuriating because I can’t tell Micah my suspicions after the things I said on our impromptu date on Monday.
She’d probably tell me I should read one of her books if I’m looking to unravel romantic subtext, reminding me that I told her love was merely a construct of fiction.
And I would have to tell her that I don’t want to read a romance book because otherwise I would feel like an idiot.
Okay, yes, I might have found a book online on Sunday and read a bit of it.
Most of it. And yes, I might have stolen some of my moves from the main character.
Clearly they worked, which is as surprising as it is obnoxious.
Now I’m going to have to figure out some of Micah’s favorite books so I can learn what she’s into when it comes to romance.
As long as she never figures out that I’m doing research.
Clearing my throat, I force my focus back to the task at hand, namely convincing Micah that she would rather go back to her apartment instead of going to a bar.
Leaning as close to Micah as I can get, I slide my hand over the smooth skin of her arm until I find her hand.
“Are you sure you don’t want to go back to—”
“Nope! We’re going to Grey Bird.” She grins, probably because I’ve started scowling.
What happened to the woman who was so determined to kiss me that she nearly launched herself into a puddle?
She puts her hand over mine and kisses the tip of my nose, which is as cruel as it is adorable. “I promise it will be worth it.”
I must really be falling for this woman because I agree. “Fine. But I’m only giving you an hour.”
“Two.”
“It’s already seven thirty.”
“Don’t pretend like you weren’t going to stay up late watching TV.”
Actually, I was going to finish that book so I can stop wondering how it ends, but that’s beside the point. “I had other things in mind for tonight,” I say, putting as much growl into my voice as I can without sounding like Christian Bale’s Batman.
She giggles. “Who says we can’t do both?”
“Are you two coming, or what?” Houston says.
I turn, suddenly realizing the rest of the table has cleared out and they’re all waiting several feet away.
I was so caught up in Micah that I didn’t even notice.
Kit looks like he’s trying not to laugh, Houston is wary, and Brooklyn seems to have no sense of a filter on her expression because she is full-on grinning at the pair of us.
At least one of the Briggs siblings approves.
“We’re coming,” Micah says, giving me another swift kiss on the nose before practically shoving me off the bench.
The tavern is close enough to walk to, which means I get to hold Micah’s hand the whole way.
It must have rained a good deal while I was in Santa Fe because everything is still wet, leaving the air feeling fresh.
It’s kind of perfect, since I feel like a fresh man.
I’m still me, and I still sat on the edge of the booth so I didn’t have to touch anyone but Micah, but a month ago I wouldn’t have been out with friends, talking and laughing as we walked a couple of blocks to a bar.
I wouldn’t have gone to a bar for any reason. I like alcohol even less than I like caffeine, so I’m glad I have the excuse of driving. Not that I expect Micah’s family to judge me for not drinking, but I’d rather not risk losing any points tonight.
I guess I didn’t need to worry about the drinking part. After we settle at a booth in the surprisingly bright and clean Grey Bird Tavern, everyone orders sodas and seltzers.
Kit asks the question I’m wondering as well. “Who’s the genius who decided we should go to a bar when none of us are drinking?”
I’m pretty sure Micah kicks him under the table. “Nachos,” she says at the same time the twins say it too.
“Trust me,” Houston tells Kit.
“We just ate,” I say, though I mildly regret my comment when Houston throws me a quick glare. What? He didn’t ask me to trust him.
Micah threads her fingers through mine. “You’re not going to care as soon as you taste them,” she says.
I keep my reply to myself, even though I’m tempted.
I’d rather taste you right now . I really need to take things slow, considering there is every likelihood I’m going to struggle with kissing Micah as much as I struggled with holding her hand.
I am perfectly okay to take my time, though I’m not sure she is on the same page.
Based on her two attacks before dinner, Micah is as eager to kiss me as she is to do everything else in life.
No fear. Just sunshine and happiness. I wish I could live like her.
As the table continues in conversation, I pick up the dessert menu card tucked away with the condiments.
I don’t need any sugar tonight, with the way my heart rate ticks higher the later the night gets, but I do need a distraction if I’m going to last through the rest of the evening. I flip the card over, then frown.
Trivia night. Every Thursday. Today is Thursday.
I’m pretty sure the Briggs siblings didn’t drag us all here just for nachos.
“What are you scheming?” Kit asks someone.
It’s Houston who answers. “Nothing you need to worry about.”
“Pretty sure we should all be worried,” I mutter. If Houston is anything like Micah, which I suspect he is considering he rarely loses games when he pitches, the night is about to get a whole lot more competitive. I’m going to guess the Briggs are more than a little enthusiastic about trivia night.
Suddenly Houston chokes on his drink, spitting soda everywhere—mostly on me.
I protect Micah as best I can, but we both get covered in sticky Coke.
Houston doesn’t stay put long enough to apologize or explain.
Still coughing, he heads straight for the bar and sits next to a busty brunette in a cocktail dress.
That sounds about right.
“Come on,” Micah says with a laugh, pulling me out of my chair. “Bathrooms are this way.”
It takes me five minutes to feel like I’ve washed the soda from my face and hands, but my attempts at de-stickying my shirt leave it soaking wet.
I peel it off, glad that the men’s room is currently empty, and hold it under the hand dryer.
This feels like a pointless battle though, which means I’m going to be stuck wearing a wet Oxford the rest of the night. Yay.
“Hey Fisch?” Micah pokes her head into the restroom, though her eyes are shut tight.
I chuckle. “You can open your eyes. It’s just me in here.”
She opens her eyes, and then she squeaks, reminding me that I am currently shirtless.
And though she already got an up-close feel of my torso the other night, apparently she finds the sight of it a very different experience.
Turning bright red, she stares at me long enough that I start to flex in case she doesn’t like what she sees.
That just makes her start to giggle. Not exactly comforting.
“One of these days you’re really going to have to tell me your workout routine,” she says and then throws a wad of black fabric at me.
I catch it and hold it out, reading the white lettering stamped across the front. “‘I won at trivia at Grey Bird Tavern and all I got was this T-shirt.’ Really?”