Chapter 38
I’m finishing up an appointment with my cardiologist and I’m not sure I heard anything he’s been saying for the last five minutes.
All I can think about is being in Connor’s lap yesterday and dry humping him like I was seventeen again.
Except this time with him was so much better than anything I remember.
After making a mess of our clothes, we put the muffins in the oven and took a shower.
Separately. The entire time I was in mine, I kept glancing at the door hoping he’d barge in and take me against the tiled wall.
Unfortunately, that didn’t happen, and neither did anything else for the rest of the day or night.
We did, however, agree to slow things down. We may be fake married but Connor wants to take me out on an official date. He’s picking me up from this appointment as soon as he’s done with practice.
“Don’t hesitate to reach out if you have any other concerns.” Dr. Lang grabs his notepad and moves to leave the room.
Somehow I manage to mutter a “thank you” before he’s gone, so at least it seems like I was paying attention. I hope.
I grab my purse and pull out my phone to see that Connor texted me already. Heat blooms on my cheeks as I swipe my screen to see what he said.
Connor
I’m on my way. Can’t wait to see you.
The text was sent less than ten minutes ago, which means he should be here soon.
The excitement and anticipation of our date causes my feet to move at an embarrassing speed.
I must look like one of those mall walkers with how fast I’m going but I don’t care.
Connor refuses to tell me what he has planned for us today and I want to get this show on the road.
I take the elevator down to the main floor. The doors don’t immediately open, so I shove my finger into the button, as if that will make it go any faster.
“Come on, come on.”
It’s been a long time since I’ve been on a date.
It’s been an even longer time since I’ve been on a good one.
When I was dating Bryan, he’d take me out, but it was always an elaborate ruse, which at the time I thought was special.
I realize now it was just him showing off his money, and it makes my stomach turn thinking of how easily I fell for it.
Connor, on the other hand, has always put thought into our dates. Yeah, we were kids, but even as a teenager Connor was more romantic than anyone I’ve dated as an adult. His dates always felt so personal, which is why I’m so excited today.
The doors finally open, and my breath hitches the moment I see him.
He’s dressed casually in black jeans and a green shirt, but somehow he still looks better than most men do when they’re dressed to the nines.
With his hands in his pockets, the muscles of his arms are on full display as I walk toward him.
His eyes light up as soon as he spots me and he pushes off the wall to meet me halfway.
“Hi,” I say shyly when I pause in front of him.
“Hi, yourself.” His voice is teasing and it calms my nerves slightly. “How was your appointment? I hate that I couldn’t be here today.”
His concern and genuine interest causes my heart to swell. “It went well. Nothing new to report.”
He flashes me a smile. “Good. You ready?”
I nod, and we walk toward the exit of the hospital. Once we’re outside, he grabs my hand without hesitation, and I interlock our fingers on instinct. It’s such a little thing, but holding his hand feels so natural, I know the meaning behind that is bigger than it seems.
We climb into his truck and take off to the mystery location he still refuses to tell me about.
“Can I at least get a hint?” I puff out my bottom lip and wait for him to glance at me. He laughs as soon as he sees it.
“Well, how can I say no to that face?”
I bounce in my seat and clap my hands excitedly like a little kid.
“Okay. Think about our first date…”
His words trail off but he doesn’t continue. “That’s it? That’s the clue?”
“Yep.” He reaches for the knob and turns up the music, ending the discussion.
Crossing my arms, I lean back against my seat and pout.
I see him shake his head at me from the corner of my eye as I begin to replay our first date.
We went for pizza and then broke into the clock tower.
Okay, pizza and clocks. As I’m trying to figure it out, we pull up to an unmarked brick building and there’s only one other car in the lot.
Scanning to see if there’s a sign or anything, I turn to him when I don’t find anything.
“Where are we? Is this where you tell me you’re actually here to kill me? Because it’s pretty secluded and you could easily toss my body off that bridge over there.” I point to a sketchy bridge just beyond the building that hovers over the Fox River.
Connor turns the engine off, completely ignoring me, and exits his truck. I’m feeling pretty good today, so I open my own door for once, and hop down onto the gravel lot.
“What are we doing here, Connor?”
He holds his hand out to me, and even though I want to refuse to take it until he tells me what’s going on, I can’t seem to make my body listen.
We walk hand in hand to a tall steel door at the back side of the building.
Connor knocks three times, and I bounce on my toes, both nervous and a little chilly from the wind.
The door finally opens and an older gentleman with a thick, black mustache greets us.
“Ciao! You must be Connor and Avery. Benvenuto! Come in, come in.” The man moves aside and we walk into an industrial-size kitchen.
The smell of fresh bread, herbs, and spices assault my senses and on cue, my stomach growls something fierce.
Along the back side of the kitchen are a slew of ovens but my eyes catch on the giant brick oven in the center.
I turn in front of Connor and grasp both of his arms. “Are we making pizza?”
He leans down and kisses the top of my head. “Yeah, Aves. We’re making pizza. And I made sure to tell him we’ll need a ton of pineapple.”
If I wasn’t holding onto Connor, I think I would be a puddle on the floor.
We move to the center of the kitchen where a cooking station has been set up for us. Aprons, utensils, and ingredients are all spread neatly across the counter. Connor picks up the apron closest to me before I can reach for it.
“Here, let me,” he says flirtatiously.
The area between my legs begins to ache, and for a split second, I wish we were alone right now so I could hop on this counter and make him do something about it. Instead, I stand still, not trusting myself not to reach out and pull his face to mine.
Connor steps in close and lifts the loop over my head.
His knuckles brush the side of my neck as he settles it, causing goose bumps to scatter over my skin.
The fabric falls into place against my chest, but he doesn’t step back.
His hands slowly slide down the sides of the apron, smoothing it out, and I hate how easily my body leans into his touch.
I wish I could play hard to get, but my damn muscle memory makes it impossible.
“Hold on,” he mutters. His voice is lower now, causing me to shiver slightly.
My fingers curl at my sides, my nails digging into my palms at the sheer force, as he moves behind me. The second I feel him there, every nerve ending in my body lights up. I can feel the heat of him at my back, and he hasn’t even touched me yet.
But then he does. His fingers find the strings at my waist, just barely brushing against me as he pulls them around. It’s slow and careful but it still sends a jolt along my spine.
What the hell is wrong with me? This is ridiculous. It’s just an apron for crying out loud.
“Too tight?” he asks, his voice so close that his breath kisses my ear.
I swallow. “It’s fine.”
It is not fine.
Because his hands are still there, resting at my hips even though he’s already tied the knot. Because I can still feel his breath at the curve of my neck now. Because all I want to do right now is lean back just an inch and capture his mouth with mine.
My head turns before I can stop it and he’s right there. So close that my next breath brushes his lips. Everything in me goes still and for a second, neither of us moves. I’m not even sure either of us are breathing right now.
“All right, let’s get started!” The man’s thick Italian accent breaks the spell, and I jump away from Connor. He laughs behind me, but I keep my eyes fixed on the instructor. Is that what he is? Chef? I don’t know. I can’t think right now.
Connor moves to his spot next to me, brushing his hand against my lower back on the way. I stare down at the counter now, at nothing, trying to remember how to exist in this room without completely combusting.
He reaches for the other apron and slides it on. I’m waiting for the man to tell us where to begin, but it’s Connor’s voice I hear next.
“Do you have a chair or stool for my wife? She can’t be on her feet too long.”
And any chance of keeping my cool vanishes. Because the thoughtfulness of this man next to me is just as sexy as his touch.
I’m officially falling in love with Connor Smith. Again.