Chapter 28
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Ava
There’s a knock on the door as I’m still pulling on my shirt. “Trevor, can you get that please?”
He doesn’t respond and the knocking becomes louder.
Tucking my blouse into my favorite pair of jeans, which thankfully still fit me, I go to the front door and laugh when I open it. Trevor is standing on the other side with an armful of flowers. As I take them from him, my breath hitches, because once he’s in full view, I realize what he looks like.
Or more accurately, who.
He’s dressed in a blue button down and beige khakis. It’s hard not to stare at the man who, other than his facial hair, looks exactly like the old him. With one exception. The old Trevor never rolled up the sleeves of his dress shirts.
I concentrate on that one little detail so I don’t feel too guilty about all the things I like about this man. Things like what he’s done to me in bed two nights in a row. Things like how I want him to continue to do those things and more.
“Something wrong?” he asks when I stand, unmoving in the doorway.
“You just look… different.”
“Is it strange that I changed my clothes three times when you were in the shower? I guess I just don’t remember what one wears for a bowling date.” He eyes my jeans. “Should I put on something else?”
I shake my head, deciding not to tell him I may have tried on even more outfits than he did. “You look great.”
He leans in. “You smell great. Good enough to eat.” His hand skims my arm, causing goosebumps to erupt all over my body. “But I guess we’ll save that for later.”
White hot tingles shoot throughout me as I search for something to put the flowers in.
It’s the second time he’s brought them. And somehow, I only have one vase.
Trevor would bring me flowers before. On special occasions.
But never twice in a period of days. I settle on putting them in a glass water pitcher.
“Maddie’s getting a lot of business from you lately.” I inhale the sweet, fragrant scent of the red roses. “They’re beautiful. Thank you.”
His eyes rake over me, taking time to appreciate my well-fitting jeans and the top that shows off my cleavage, which has been enhanced lately thanks to the secret I’m keeping from him. “You’re what’s beautiful. Fucking gorgeous, actually.”
Heat creeps up my chest to my face. Trevor always complimented me. I’m not sure why this is different. Maybe it’s the way he says it, with the emphasis on the curse word, as if somehow that gives it more meaning.
“So.” I turn back toward the door. “Where are we going for dinner?”
“I heard about this place called Lloyd’s right around the corner.”
My eyes widen. “Lloyd’s Steakhouse? Yeah, uh, I’m not sure that’s where we should go.”
He glances down at himself. “Jackets and ties required?”
“No. It’s not that. It’s the most expensive place in town.”
“What don’t you get about this being a bona fide date, Ava?”
Guilt over our dwindling, barely existent bank account—thanks to me—eats away at me. “I’m just not sure we should be spending that kind of money.”
“Surely we have enough to go out for a nice steak dinner.” He pulls out his credit card. “We’ll float it on this for now. Haven’t you heard, I’m going back to work as a paramedic soon. And there should be some compensation coming our way from the military.”
“Both of those things might take a while, Trevor.”
He looks disappointed. “You want me to cancel the reservation?”
He obviously put a lot of thought into this. Not to mention he’s doing exactly what I wanted. He’s trying. Hard, as it would seem. So, no, I don’t want him to cancel. At this point, us reconnecting is more important than a few hundred dollars.
I thread my elbow with his. “What are we waiting for? Lead the way.”
Pleased that I’m not thwarting his plans, he opens the door and escorts me down the stairs, out the back door, and around the corner. He stares up at the giant Lloyd’s Steakhouse sign. “Did we come here often?”
“I wouldn’t say often. A few times. Your thirtieth birthday. Our tenth anniversary. Things like that.”
I purposely leave out the first time we came here figuring that falls under the category of too much. It was the night he proposed. He didn’t propose at the restaurant, he’d done it earlier. But he took me out to celebrate. We couldn’t afford it then either.
Like a tried-and-true date, he opens the door for me and puts his hand on the small of my back as we make our way to the hostess stand.
“Table for Criss,” he says.
“Right this way, sir.”
A few heads turn as we walk through the restaurant.
Whispers—gossip most likely—come from tables as we pass.
Several people wave or nod hello. I don’t take the time to stop and engage in any greetings.
I’m too eager to get on with our night. Or maybe I’m impatient about what I’m fairly certain will happen at the end of it.
“As requested,” the hostess says. “A table for two by the window.”
Trevor pulls out my seat for me then takes his own.
“You requested this table?” I ask, voice low.
He nods out the window. “I know how much you like the park.”
“It’s not so much the park I like. It’s what’s beyond.”
“The tree. Right.” He fiddles with his water glass. “I suppose if I was trying to be really romantic, I’d have taken you there.”
“You don’t have to do things like that. You know, force things to mirror how they used to be.” I smile, then tell a little white lie. “Bowling sounds much more fun.”
“I’m glad you think so,” he says, sounding amused. “I just hope I don’t suck at it.”
“I’m sure you’ll excel at it just as you have everything else.”
His eyebrows smash together over his nose. “What exactly have I been excelling at?”
My chest heaves slightly when I think of the one thing he seems to be an expert at: making me come.
“Why, Ava. It’s dark in here, but I do believe you’re blushing.”
The moment is interrupted when the waitress comes to take our drink order.
“Should we get a bottle of wine?” Trevor asks. “Red?”
I shake my head. “I’d just like an iced tea.”
He turns back to the waitress. “One glass of merlot and one iced tea please.” When she walks off, he asks, “You don’t drink much, do you?”
I’m saved from having to serve him yet another lie when Hunter and Willow approach our table.
“Hey, you two,” Willow says in a sing-song voice that lets me know she’s amused to see us here. Out on an actual date that doesn’t involve Goodwin’s bacon mac-and-cheese.
“Trevor, this is Hunter and Willow McQuaid.”
Trevor’s head cocks to the side. “Hudson’s brother?”
Hunter nods. “That’s right. Heard about your accident, man. Sorry you’re dealing with that.”
“It’s all good,” Trevor says nonchalantly. “I’m on the mend.” He taps his temple. “You know, other than the obvious complete and total lack of memory that goes beyond the past six weeks.”
Nobody laughs at his joke. Was it a joke?
Drinks get delivered and Hunter and Willow say a quick goodbye and proceed to their table, walking hastily like they can’t get away fast enough.
“Guess I made that awkward, huh?” he asks.
“I just don’t think people know what to say.”
“Are you ready to order?” the perky waitress asks, providing a much-needed interruption.
This place is totally old school, with no prices on my menu, just his. But I remember them from last time when Trevor showed me and settle on a modestly priced chicken dish. Trevor orders a steak.
“Man need meat,” he says in a deep caveman voice. “Man need strength to take woman later.”
I giggle at his antics then blow out a slow controlled breath through my lips wondering how I’m going to get through this night without making a complete and total fool of myself by begging him to just take me home and have his way with me.
We talk our way through dinner, which fascinates me considering I avoid speaking of the past and he has no past to speak about.
We talk about the coffee house. The family with the unruly kids in the far corner.
The older couple three tables over who look passionately in love.
I explain to him that it’s Maddie’s grandmother, Rose, and her newish husband, Tucker McQuaid.
That leads to more talk about the town’s history, which I’ve come to learn is a ‘safe’ subject.
I become self-conscious when I notice him staring at my mouth. I use my napkin to wipe it, thinking I have something on my chin.
He sits back in his chair, taking me in. “Watching you eat is making me hard.”
I flush and glance around, hoping nobody heard him.
“You act all innocent, Ava. But you like it when I talk to you that way.”
I admit nothing. I already told him enough the other night. I don’t need him getting an inflated ego.
“Better finish quickly,” he says, gulping down his wine. “We have a date with a huge set of balls.”
I almost choke before I realize he’s talking about bowling, and I start laughing.
“Damn, woman. You have a really sexy laugh.”
I could get used to this. The looks. The bold statements. The compliments.
When you basically grow up together, something like how you laugh is just part of who you are. It’s expected from the other person. But with him, the way I laugh is different. Exciting, I suppose. And that’s just one more reason I’m drawn to this new side of him.
“Come on, Trev, say something to make me laugh again.” I look at him with a slight smile. “Tell me how sexy I am.”
He shifts in his seat, pushes his plate away, and with a wave of his arm, he shouts, “Check please!”
I do laugh as I eye his half-eaten dinner in amusement.
He’s just as ready to move this date along as I am.
We’re like two teenagers anticipating the kiss that’s going to come at the end of the night.
Only we both know it’s not going to end there.
The kiss will turn into more. More of my hands on him.
More of his tongue exploring me. More of us taking each other to new heights even I can’t remember.