Chapter 7
SABLE
"And then she said," I said between fits of giggles, "'if you don't like peanut butter, maybe you should try the honey.’"
Forrest laughed. "Is any of that story true?"
I sniffed at him and took a sip of wine. "All of it is. Are you casting aspersions on my anecdote?"
"I wouldn't dare," he said with a smile. "But who doesn't like peanut butter? Aside from people who are allergic to peanuts."
"You're not, are you?" I asked. "Allergic to peanuts, I mean."
"Luckily for me, no. Just lavender."
"That sucks." I rested my head on my hand. "Lavender smells so good."
"Not as good as you smell," he said, toasting me with his wine before downing the last of it.
"I don't know about that." I managed to stop myself from sniffing my armpit. That wouldn't be a good look for a first date, especially when things were going so well.
He waved at the server. "I'll fix this up and we can get out of here," he said.
"I'm paying my way," I said firmly.
He looked like he might argue with me, but then he nodded. "As you wish."
I squinted at him.
He squinted back. "What?"
"That's the second time tonight someone's tried to remind me of that movie," I said. "Don't tell me, you and Woody had a Princess Bride viewing recently."
"Not recently, no," Forrest said. He regarded me for a long moment before placing his card on the plate for the server and passing it over to me to do the same.
"You keep doing that," I said.
"I do?" He raised an eyebrow at me. "What do I keep doing?"
"You keep looking at me like you're trying to figure out what I'm thinking."
"Maybe I am," he said slowly. "I'm intrigued by you. Curious as to what's going through your mind."
"Trust me, it's not as exciting as you might think," I said.
"I'm sure it is."
"Yeah?" I challenged. "Right now I'm wondering if I've had too much wine to walk straight."
"Interesting, I was thinking the same thing," he said.
"You were wondering if I've had too much wine to walk straight?" I asked.
He chuckled. "No, I was wondering about myself. Between us, I think we'll manage."
"It might look like we're in a three-legged race," I said. "That wouldn't be embarrassing at all."
"If I was going to be tied to someone, I'd like it to be you." He nodded his thanks to the server as she returned our cards.
"That's an interesting observation," I said. "Do you often think about being tied to people?"
"As a matter of fact, no," he said. "Just you. What about you? Is that something that crosses your mind?"
He pushed himself to his feet and offered me his arm.
"Being tied to someone else? I can't say I've ever contemplated it." I hooked my arm through his.
"What about being tied to something else?" he asked as we stepped out onto the street.
The air was crisp and chill in spite of my warm coat.
"That depends on what the something is," I said carefully. "If we're talking about train tracks, then no thanks. If they're talking about a headboard…"
I'd definitely had too much to drink. My mouth was running away with itself. Or maybe it was revealing things I wouldn't have revealed if I was stone cold sober. You know what they say about alcohol shining a light on someone. Bringing the real them to the surface.
"Interesting," Forrest said slowly. "This is what I mean. You're intriguing. I think I've only scratched the surface when it comes to what makes Sable Kohl tick."
"Maybe. Maybe not," I shrugged. "I could say the same about you, though. I don't know much about you apart from the fact you want to save the world, and you have dubious taste in acquaintances."
"Woody isn't so bad," he said.
"You said he was the friend of a friend."
"That's right," he agreed.
"What is that friend like?" I asked.
"Leif Larsen? He's difficult to explain," Forrest said. "I might have to introduce you sometime."
"Leif Larsen, the interior designer?" I glanced over at him as we walked. "You're friends with him?"
"Guilty," Forrest said with a smile. "He decorated my apartment, and we stayed in contact. You know him?"
"I know of him," I said. "He has a reputation for having good taste."
"He has excellent taste," he agreed. "I let him do whatever he wanted, and he didn't disappoint."
"I wonder if he'd do my place," I mused. "He's probably booked out for years in advance."
"I'm sure he'd do a favor for a friend," Forrest said. "You know, I didn't ask you out to give you a pile of business recommendations."
I laughed softly. "I didn't think you did. Firstly, that would be a weird reason to ask somebody out."
He chuckled. "It really would. Is there a secondly?"
I thought for a moment. "Not really. Wait, maybe there is. I probably wouldn't accept an invitation to a second date if you turned out to be a walking billboard." That would be boring and annoying. If I wanted to look at a bunch of ads, I'd scroll through social media.
"That's completely fair," he said. "I wouldn't go out with me again either. Does that mean if I ask, you'll accept?"
"I don't know. I suppose you'll have to ask first," I said evasively.
I liked him, but I wasn't going to make it too easy on him. Besides, we both knew I wasn't going to hurry into anything. If something happened between us, it would be a one day at a time thing. Maybe one night at a time.
"I'd ask right now, but let's finish this date first."
We walked slowly to my apartment building, stopping to admire the Christmas displays in the windows as we walked past. The year had gone by so quickly. The fact it was nearly December made my head spin.
"What do you do for Christmas?" he asked, peering at a rotating Santa, a sack full of presents on his back.
"I don't know," I said. "It's been a while since I got to decide. What about you?"
He exhaled, his breath misting the glass in front of him. "I usually spend the day by myself, wishing I could be with my sons." He turned to look at me. "We haven't had an easy relationship over the years. No doubt they have plans already."
"You surprise me," I said, hoping to lighten the mood.
"Oh?"
"Yeah, I thought you'd be busy delivering presents to people all over the world, or making toys for Santa to deliver."
He chuckled. "I would, but I seem to have misplaced my sleigh and my magic wand. I'm not sure I'd pass for a Christmas elf either."
"No," I agreed. "You're too tall. You'd be a great mall Santa, though."
"Do you think so?" His expression was thoughtful. "That might be fun, sitting there in a red suit saying ‘ho ho ho’ all day."
I giggled. "No one would suspect it was you."
"Undercover Santa. That's even better," he said. "Would you come along and be my elf?"
For a moment, I thought he'd suggest I be his Mrs. Claus. Of course, he knew better. I couldn't imagine being anyone's Mrs. Anything ever again. Not that I didn't want to fall in love and live happily ever after. I did. But get married? I'd skip that.
"That sounds more fun than spending Christmas by myself," I said finally.
We reached my apartment building and stepped inside into the warmth. After being out on the street, it almost felt too hot. I shrugged out of my coat and draped it over my arm.
"I'll walk you up to your apartment." He pressed the button for the elevator.
"You don't have to do that," I started to say.
"I'd like to be sure Woody isn't lurking in the shadows."
He seemed sure the other man wouldn't be, but honestly, I was happy to let him check. If only because two of us could fend him off better than one. And there was the little matter of spending a few more minutes in his company.
"Okay," I agreed.
There was no sign of Woody in the building's foyer, or in the elevator car on the ride up. Not in the corridor outside my apartment either.
I pulled out my card and swiped it to unlock, pushing the door open carefully and stepping inside.
"Looks like it's just us," I said. "Would you like another drink? Or a coffee?" I tossed my coat in the direction of the couch, missing by about a foot. I shrugged as it landed on the floor, and headed over to the kitchen.
"There's something else I'd like," Forrest said.
He closed the door behind him and followed me to the kitchen.
I turned around, my back to the countertop. He placed his hands to either side, boxing me in. Lightly and carefully, he brushed his lips over mine.
My pulse kicked up a notch or two. His body was so close I could feel the warmth radiating off him. Unlike Woody's body, his was comforting. Safe. I could get lost in him.
He pushed himself off the counter and stepped away.
"I should say goodnight," he said, his voice rough.
I glanced towards his groin. There was a woody here after all, one in his pants. One I wanted to touch, to taste, but then he was stepping away.
"Forrest," I whispered.
He offered me a faint smile. "I don't want to do anything either of us would regret. I like you, Sable Kohl. I want to see you again, but I don't want to pressure you. When you're ready…"
I opened my mouth to tell him I was ready, but closed it again. He was right. This was something I couldn't rush, not without the risk of ruining everything.
"I like you too," I said. "If you ask me out again, I'll probably say yes." I cocked my head at him.
"I have tickets to the Rooks game on Saturday night," he said. "Courtesy of Leif and his brother. We have a private box if you'd like to accompany me?"
"To the hockey game?" I asked. I wouldn't have guessed he was a fan. But then, as I'd observed, I didn't know much about him. "I've never been, but sure. I'm down to trying new things."
"Good. I'll pick you up before the game. You can meet Leif. I have a feeling you two will click."
If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was trying to set us up. I decided I was imagining it. Who’d ask a woman out, only to introduce her to someone he thought she could get involved with romantically? Although, that could be more common than I knew.
"You're not going to tell Woody where we're going, are you?" I asked. If they were acquaintances, chances were we'd bump into each other again. Would he try to finish what he started earlier in the evening?
"I could tell him to stay away," Forrest said. "Or you could get to know each other."
I made a face. "Pardon the pun, but the jury is out on that one."
Did I want to be friends with someone who tried to kill me? That was a decision for when I was sober. Tipsy me didn't seem to think it was such a bad idea, which is exactly why tipsy me shouldn't be allowed to make choices.
Except this one.
I stepped over to Forrest, grabbed him by the lapels and pressed my mouth to his. He swiped his tongue over my lips, dipping inside before he pulled back.
I let him go and stepped away.
"Until Saturday night then," I said.
"Until then," he agreed.
He turned slowly and walked toward the door. "Make sure you lock it behind me,” he said before he disappeared.
I slid the two bolts and lock back into place. Double-checked them to make sure they were fully engaged, then started to panic.
I’d have to give Savannah a call. What the hell did people wear to hockey games these days? Not Chanel, that was for sure. Right? Honestly, I didn't have a clue.