Chapter 25
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
WYATT
I about swallowed my tongue when Rachel opened the door, revealing herself in that damn dress.
Jesus, what a mindfuck. I’ve never seen a hotter woman than Rachel’s curves shoved into all that tight denim.
Not that it’s scandalous or she looks a little—I don’t know how to say this—too much?
Nah, not even. The dress—and Rachel—are perfect.
Understated, yet extremely sexy. The denim is snug around her chest, plumping up her tits, and my God.
All I can think about is tearing that damn dress off her and revealing what she’s got hidden beneath it.
I keep sneaking glances at her legs while I drive, utterly distracted.
They’re long and tanned, and she’s got her bag resting in her lap, the chain draped over one knee.
Not the knee I put my hand on for a few seconds before I pulled out of the parking lot, though.
I had to stop touching her because I was worried that, once I started, I would never stop.
I’d just let my fingers walk up her thigh, slide beneath her dress.
See if she’s wearing panties or not. See if they’re wet.
I give myself as subtle an adjustment as possible and grip the steering wheel tight, my focus on the road ahead of me.
I’m taking her to a steakhouse in the next town over.
A popular place with locals and tourists because their food and their bar are just that damn good.
I pull in to find the parking lot full, so I go to the business next door, which is closed, park in one of the spots closest to the restaurant, and shut the engine off, glancing over at Rachel to find she’s already watching me.
“You ready?”
She nods, tucking a thick strand of blonde hair behind her ear. I’ve never necessarily been attracted to a blonde before, but I guess there’s a first time for everything. And she’s definitely the prettiest blonde I’ve ever seen. “It looks busy.”
“It’s always busy.” I unlock the doors and start to open mine. “Hold on.”
I round the car and open her door for her, wanting to be a gentleman. She climbs out of the car, the tightness of her dress causing her movement to be restricted, and she stumbles a little bit. I grab hold of her arm, steadying her, and she offers me a grateful smile.
“Thank you. Guess I’m a klutz.”
“No, you’re not. It’s the dress.” I take her hand and lead her across the parking lot, hoping like hell my palms aren’t sweaty.
They used to be so bad when I was a teenager.
Every time I drove my mom’s car, she’d see the sweat stains I left behind on the steering wheel and ask me if I had a problem.
She did research on the internet and try to find a solution, which was embarrassing. She was the same way when I had acne.
Now that I have my own daughter, I understand why Mom acted that way.
She just wanted to help. Just wanted the best for me.
That’s all I want for Dottie. Do I feel selfish because I’m taking yet another night that I could spend with my daughter and using it to go out on a date with a gorgeous woman?
A little bit. But then again, when do I ever do something just for me? Hardly ever.
“I’m nervous,” Rachel admits as we approach the building. There are people waiting outside for a table, some of them dressed much more casually than we are.
“Why?”
“What if you see someone you know in there? I had no idea it’s like this in a small town until I actually spent time with all of you locals.
Where you go out to eat and run into at least three relatives, old neighbors, and a bunch of people you went to high school with.
” Rachel laughs, and I savor the sound. “But seriously. There’s no way you’re not going to run into someone you know inside. ”
“If we do, we’ll say hi, I’ll introduce you, and then we’ll send them on their way,” I tell her, slowing down as we draw closer to the entrance.
“You’ll send them on their way? Oh sure.” She sends me a disbelieving look. “You talk to everyone, Wyatt. You’re polite. It’s like you can’t be rude.”
“When I’m working, I can be. Remember Captain Grumpy Pants?”
“Suzi told me you were having an off day, but I found that hard to believe,” she teases.
“I don’t ever hear you calling me that now.
” I open the door for her, and she glides inside, her tinkling laughter carrying toward me as I follow her in.
Together we stop in front of the hostess stand, where a bored teenager with a nose ring is waiting, looking like she’d rather be anywhere but at work.
“A table for two. I have a reservation,” I tell her.
“Name.”
“Wyatt McKinney.”
She jerks her gaze to mine, her eyes going wide. “You related to Coach McKinney at the high school?”
I can feel Rachel’s amusement at this girl’s question. This conversation is only proving Rachel’s earlier point. “He’s my little brother.”
“No way! My boyfriend is on the football team. He loves Coach McKinney.” She glances down at her iPad screen and taps it. “I see your reservation, and you’re right on time. Let’s get you seated.”
She grabs a couple of menus, and Rachel and I follow her through the restaurant, which is packed.
Loud. There’s music playing and big-screen TVs on the wall, showing a few different baseball games with no sound on.
The hostess seats us at a small table close to a massive window, sets the menus in front of us, and declares, “Your server will be with you in a moment.” She’s gone before we can say anything.
Rachel leans over the table the moment the hostess is gone, giving me an excellent view of her cleavage. “See? The second you walk into the place, someone knows who you are.”
“Only through my brother. She doesn’t know me.
” I don’t bother mentioning that I spotted a couple who live not too far from the fire station and like to come in during the latter part of the summer to give us extra vegetables from their garden.
I gave them an acknowledging nod as we passed them but otherwise said nothing.
Because I knew Rachel would find it amusing.
We check out the menus, and I order a water while Rachel orders some fruity drink special that’s chock-full of alcohol.
“You’re not drinking?” she asks when the server leaves.
“I’m driving.”
“True.”
“Wanna be sober tonight.” I give her a smile, knowing that it’s sly. A bit of a smirk even. “You might want to be too, so don’t get too carried away.”
“What are you implying, hmm?” Her tone is flirtatious, the candlelight from the votive on our table casting her in a warm glow that has me thinking all sorts of romantic thoughts.
“Wouldn’t you like to know,” I drawl, leaning back in my chair so I can really take her in.
She’s beautiful. Young, but so what? She’s kind. Doesn’t back down from a challenge. Seems to like hanging around here when she could probably leave whenever she wanted to, but still she chooses to spend her summer in our town. She even works here. Why?
Why.
I want to find out. Want to ask all the questions and get to know this girl even better.
I remember the information I found out when I googled her.
How she was publicly dumped by her shitty ex.
Does she still care about that guy? Is she still in love with him?
If she were, why would she be with me on this date tonight?
She’s not in love with that guy. No way.
I’m not usually an open book with anyone, but I want to tell her whatever she wants to know. Even if she asks about Dottie’s mom, because everyone I meet who didn’t live through the drama back in the day wants to ask about Cheryl, and I get it.
The server brings our drinks and takes our dinner order. We make idle conversation, but I can tell she has questions. She’s curious, and we’ve never been alone like this before. We’ve always got someone we know around us, chatting us up, butting in on any serious conversation we attempt.
“Who’s watching Dottie tonight?” she finally asks.
“My sister. Dot’s close to her cousins. My sister has three girls. They all adore her.” I need to stop feeling bad about using my family as babysitters. It was Serena who came to me in the first place and asked if Dottie could come over and stay the night.
“Aw, that’s sweet. What’s your sister’s name?”
“Serena. Her husband’s name is Jeff. They’ve been married for almost thirteen years. She’s the oldest. Then me. Then Nate.”
“The football coach at the high school.”
“He teaches there. Mostly PE.”
“God, I hated PE.”
“I didn’t.” I grin. “We’d all do strength training in the gym when I was in PE. It was my favorite class in high school.”
“Of course. Because you would love working out.” She rolls her eyes, but I can tell she’s teasing.
“I was on the football team in high school too.”
“You were?” She sounds surprised.
I nod. “Definitely. I played with some greats.”
She’s frowning. “Like who?”
“Ever heard of Jake Callahan?”
Her eyes go wide. “Who hasn’t heard of him? And his dad.”
Jake Callahan is a superstar quarterback who plays in the NFL, just like his father did before him, Drew Callahan.
“I played with him. Jake. We were on the same team, and his dad was our coach.” I wasn’t that great. Nate was always better at the sport than I ever was, but being on the varsity football team with Jake Callahan and having his dad as our coach is my one claim to fame.
“No way!” She beams. “See, you know someone famous! That’s too cool.”
“Do you watch football?”
“Not really. I went to an NFL game once, a long time ago.” She shrugs.
“It’s an event around here, the high school football games. Everyone goes—like practically the whole town. There’s not a lot to do around here, so it’s worth a night’s entertainment.”
“Do you go to the games?” Rachel asks.