Chapter 16 Dakota
DAKOTA
Okay, this is no big deal. Not at all. I’m fine.
I mean, having a panic attack is totally sexy, right?
I stare into the mirror in my bathroom, trying like hell to get it together. I’m not having an actual panic attack. I don’t think. Gabe is on his way to pick me up for our date—that part, I couldn’t be more excited about.
When he asked me on Wednesday if I was free Saturday night, I was actually giddy.
I mean, full-on butterflies and wanting to squeal kind of excitement.
I haven’t been able to think about anything other than our kiss and him saying he wanted to take me out on a real date since that night, but for him to actually follow through?
I thought he’d change his mind. That there was no way he wasn’t going to have some sort of freak-out moment.
But he showed up at my house on Wednesday to work on my brand-new hot tub, confident and strong.
Happy as he talked me up while he worked.
During his lunch break, we went and checked on Mavis and her kittens.
That’s when he asked if Saturday worked for our date.
Somehow, I managed to tell him yes, even though it felt like my tongue had swelled to twice the size and made it difficult. I want him. There’s no doubt about that, but dating isn’t something I’ve really done.
I’m nervous. I want it to go well. But how can it when the thought of going anywhere in public sends me into a tailspin where I can barely force myself to leave my bathroom, let alone the house? I’m a trainwreck.
This is going to be an epic failure. How can it not be?
I stare at my reflection in the mirror, seeing I’ve gone pale. My eyes are watery as I cling to the porcelain sink in my bathroom. I try to take a deep breath, but it physically hurts, my lungs squeezing uncomfortably.
I don’t date. I barely leave the house, and now I’m dating? This is so not me.
I hear the doorbell ring, and I know he’s here. There’s no way I’m missing out on this chance. I try again to take a deep breath and do a little better before I walk to the front door and pull it open.
Gabe looks good. And I mean really, really good. But when doesn’t he? He’s wearing a nice button-down black shirt and a clean, new-looking pair of jeans. His hair is styled, and I can smell delicious cologne.
When does the man not look good?
I’m happy he’s not wearing a suit and tie. I don’t think I could take it. I’m wearing something similar to him but don’t make it look nearly as good. Although, as his eyes slowly peruse my body, he seems to like what he sees.
I also notice he’s holding a plant of some sort in his hands. I look a little closer. “Is that . . .” I think it is. “Is that a tomato plant?”
He looks bashful as he smiles and holds it out for me. “You said you wanted to plant tomatoes. Thought this would be better than flowers, though I can bring them next time, if you prefer.”
Next time.
My mind gets stuck on that, and I find myself grinning from ear to ear. He’s already planning on a next time. Okay, I can get through one night in public for that next time.
But my feet don’t move, and I know he picks up on my panic. He’s still standing outside my front door and places the plant down on the porch at his feet. “It’ll be fine until we can plant it,” he says, and I nod my head, stilted and unsure. “You ready to go?”
I nod again, even slower this time as I try to work on my breathing.
“Dakota.” I realize I wasn’t looking at him and instead past his broad shoulders at his truck when I hear his deep, smooth voice. My eyes lock on his. “Do you trust me?”
“W-what?” I ask him, stuttering like a fool. He’s just watching me kindly. Patiently. “Yes.”
He smiles and then holds out his hand for mine.
I take it, letting his warmth overcome me as I pull my door shut, letting the lock click in place behind me.
We head down the stairs toward his truck, but instead of going to the cab, he walks us around to the bed.
He opens the tailgate and pulls out a cooler and a tote bag that looks pretty heavy.
“Gabe . . .” I start, but he motions with his head for me to follow him since his hands are full, and I walk behind him as he heads to the barn.
What exactly is happening here?
I’m in a daze as he puts the cooler down, then opens the barn door, flipping on the large light in the middle of the barn.
“I hope this is okay,” he says, pulling a soft-looking blanket from the tote bag and laying it out by some of the hay bales on the floor.
He pulls out a projector and box that I see has one of those portable screens inside.
I look at him in total awe. “We’re staying here for our date?”
He honest to God looks nervous and maybe even sheepish as he walks over to the wall and starts to set up the screen. “Is this okay? I just thought, well . . .”
He looks over at me sweetly, his cheeks a little flushed—which hey, that’s my thing.
He’s usually so confident. “That I’m a mess who doesn’t like to leave the property and might have a full-on freak-out if you take me out in public?
” I try to keep my tone light, but it’s clear he was considering that, though I’m not offended.
I’m relieved . . .
And surprised, even though I shouldn’t be. I’m not used to anyone paying that much attention to my needs. But this is Gabe. Sweet, thoughtful Gabe.
“I didn’t mean it that way. I swear.” And now I’ve flustered the poor man. He turns like he’s going to take the screen down. “We can go into town and have a nice dinner.”
I hurry to stop him. “No,” I say, reaching for his hand.
“This is incredible. I can’t tell you how .
. .” I honestly get choked up, and I really need to get it together.
“You’re so kind and thoughtful.” I sweep my hand out, motioning to the blanket and the cooler.
“This is the nicest thing anyone has ever done for me.”
I think his ears are blushing. Is that a thing? “I just didn’t think you’d want to go out to a crowded restaurant. And I really want you to be comfortable for our first real date.”
I think about the other night when Mavis had her kittens. About that kiss I’m not sure I’ll ever stop thinking about. To me, that was our first date. Or maybe even trivia night . . . But I don’t want to take anything away from tonight and all the amazing effort he’s put into this.
“You got it 100 percent right,” I say, taking his hand and leading him over to the blanket.
“More than I ever could’ve even imagined.
I was really nervous about going out tonight .
. .” We settle down on the blanket together, our backs resting against the large hay bales. “Not about being with you.”
Though, maybe that’s not entirely true. Not that I don’t want this with him. I never even dreamed a man like Gabe would ever want me, but he does make me nervous because I didn’t see it coming. I don’t want to mess this up.
“But going to a crowded restaurant?” he guesses.
“Yeah. That was terrifying. And I know I made it through trivia . . .” I trail off, feeling more than embarrassed. And hey, yeah, you can blush all the way to your ears if the heat coming off my own is any indication.
He takes my hand in his large, warm one and squeezes gently. “I don’t need fancy restaurants. I don’t want them.” He looks happy when he looks around the large barn. “This was for me too.”
I smile at that. Okay then. “So, what’s in the cooler?” I ask, ready to start this date.
He opens the top and starts pulling out a couple of large bowls. “I don’t know how to cook much, as my daughter would tell you, but I have spaghetti down. And I make a really great meatball.”
I grin, watching him grab two plates and forks from the large cooler. He even made a salad, which looks delicious, and garlic bread. My stomach rumbles as he plates it up for us.
“And wine?” he says it like a question, and I take the bottle from him, along with the two long-stem wine glasses he brought.
“This looks delicious,” I say, pouring the wine into the glasses and admiring my full plate. “Careful, you might spoil me.”
“Well, the only other thing I know how to make is pancakes. So don’t get too excited.”
He hands me a napkin, and I take it, hoping I don’t make too big of a mess as I dig in. “I love pancakes,” I say, then twirl the noodles onto my fork and take a small bite. “Damn, that’s good.”
He looks pleased and not nearly as worried about making a mess, shoveling food into his mouth. I can’t help but laugh when sauce splatters over his lip. I take a napkin and wipe it for him, enamored by the gorgeous, sweet man.
“I’m starving,” he says, and I chuckle, going for it and taking a pretty big bite myself. Getting more and more comfortable as we eat. We chitchat here and there in between hearty bites, and after we both finish eating, I’m stuffed full.
He packs the dishes away in the cooler, but when he pulls out a container with strawberry cheesecake, I let out a loud groan. “Jesus, fuck, that looks good.” I pat my full belly. “But I don’t think I can eat another bite.”
He smiles, his eyes trailing over my body in a way that lights up my insides and makes me hungry for something else—even though I’m regretting eating so damn much because I’m not sure I can move.
Though for a chance to taste his lips again, I could rally.
“How about we watch a movie and then see if there’s room for dessert.” He says it innocently, but I can’t help but wonder if he means something other than the cheesecake.
The kiss was hot as hell. At least to me, but maybe he’s not ready for more. Maybe he doesn’t even want to kiss me again. Perhaps he’s not actually attracted to me . . . but the date? The going out of his way?
The man is making an effort. That can’t mean he just wants to be friends, right?
I’m so far out of my element here. I’m as socially awkward as they come but manage to agree to watching the movie.
He sets up the projector and pulls up Netflix before shutting the main barn light off and coming back over to sit next to me.
His long legs are kicked out in front of him, and he toes off his shoes as he scrolls through movies.
“Thought I’d get a little comfortable for the movie. ”
I nod dumbly, pulling my own shoes off and placing them next to his. “So what are we watching?”
He laughs nervously. “The last thing I watched was Encanto, and before that it was The Little Mermaid.”
I grin. “Life with a five-year-old.” He gives a shy smile. “What was the last movie you watched before you became a father?”
He’s thinking it over now. “Hmmm, I think it was some rom-com Shelly wanted to watch. I don’t even remember.” His eyes flick to mine. “What about you? What kind of movies do you like?”
“I’ll watch anything. Honestly, I’m more of a documentary person. I think the last one I watched was about a girl going missing on a cruise.” He seems intrigued but maybe a little surprised? Horrified? “And now you think I’m a serial killer.”
That makes him laugh a little too hard.
“Really?” I ask, but I’m laughing too. “I’m not, I swear.”
“Suuuure,” he says in a teasing voice. “Though . . .” He pauses, not following through on the thought, and I find myself extremely curious about what he was going to say.
“Though?” I prod.
He grins, his lips curving widely. “Well, they do have a nickname for you at Oakley’s Crew. But it was before trivia night.”
“Oh yeah? Do I even want to know?” I ask a little nervously.
“Serial-killer Hottie,” he answers, and my eyes widen.
“W-what? They thought I was a serial killer?” And I can’t even begin to comprehend the hot part.
“Well, you did request only one crew member to come way out here in the boonies.” He smirks.
“And the hot part . . . Well, I told Jackson you were good-looking. I didn’t say hot,” he defends, but then his eyes are on mine, and he’s looking very deeply into them “Though maybe that’s exactly what I thought, even before I knew it. ”
I swallow hard at his confession. This all seems so unreal. “You did?”
“I think so,” he says quietly, moving closer to me. I breathe in his sexy cologne and close my eyes as I lean into him, my hand going over his heart and feeling how rapidly it’s pounding inside his chest. “This okay?”
I nod as our noses brush, and then his lips meet mine softly, exploring and teasing at the same time as he blesses me with a second, hot-as-hell kiss.
His fingers slide through my hair as he pulls me closer, and before I know it, I’m on his lap, and our lips are mashed together as my hands rest on his hard chest.
“This is so much more than okay,” I pant, rutting against him shamelessly. My cock is already so hard, I think I’m close to embarrassing myself, and I couldn’t give a flying fuck. I want him more than I’ve ever wanted anyone before.
My hands tremble as I slowly unbutton his shirt, peeling it away and off his strong shoulders. I pull back to admire the hard, rippling muscles covered by a light dusting of hair.
“You’re too beautiful for words.”
He gives me a shy smile, slipping his shirt all the way off and then cupping the back of my neck with his hand and pulling me back in for a heated kiss. My hands won’t stop roaming over his warm skin, and when he removes my shirt, I notice absolutely no hesitance as he does the same with his own.
His big hands slide over my back and my arms, then to my front as he brushes over my already sensitive nipples. My dick jerks hard in my pants, and for a second, I think I’ve come. “Want you.” I nip at his plump bottom lip. “So. Bad.” I kiss down over his jaw and notice the uptick in his breathing.
“I want you too . . .” I hear the hesitance now though, and it makes me stop abruptly. I pull back and look into his eyes.
“Are you okay?”
He nods quickly. “Yes.” He licks his swollen bottom lip. His eyes are still full of lust, and his chest heaves with rapid pumps of air. I know for sure he’s with me 100 percent, but I see the nerves there.
“I’ve never, um . . .”
“Been with a man,” I try to help.
He nods. “Yeah.” I hate that he looks unsure now. Not about me, I don’t think. But maybe about what to do—though everything he’s done so far has been perfect. “I’ve only been with one person. I don’t want to mess this up.”
“You can’t,” I say honestly. “There’s no way.”
But . . . I also don’t want to ruin this. I don’t want to rush him. And I have my own insecurities and truths.
“Maybe we should talk.” I say, feeling a little deflated.
I can’t tell if he’s relieved or disappointed when I climb off his lap. And yeah, as much as it sucks and my balls are already starting to ache from the thwarted release . . . I know I’m right.
We need to talk.