I thrum my fingers on the table. “I
have to think about this. I mean, we haven’t even kissed, and we’re discussing
marriage. What if I don’t like the way you—” my eyes bulge at the thought of
what I was going to say.
A cocky grin appears. Damn him. Why
does he have to be so confident? “Like the way I what?” he asks. He knows damn
well what I was referring to.
“Never mind.”
“No, I want to know.”
I squiggle around in my seat.
“Does it have anything to do with fucking
hard and fast?” he asks, emphasizing the last words and still smiling
smugly.
My jaw nearly slams on the table.
“Sheridan, I don’t think you have
anything to worry about in that regard.”
My wine glass beckons, so I grab it and
chug down the contents.
“Care for some more?” he asks as he
waggles his brows.
I can’t answer him, so he pours me a
glass anyway. The dog. Then he leans forward and draws a circle on the top of
my hand. That circle has a direct path to my girly bits, and it’s not fair at
all because I honestly don’t like the man.
“You have to know I like you, and that
I’m attracted to you.” What? “I’ve made no secret of it. I wouldn’t be
hanging around you or spending time with you otherwise. Even if English liked
you, I would’ve steered things in a different direction, made excuses to her,
or whatever. But I didn’t. Because I like you. I happen to think you’re
gorgeous. And sexy. And funny. And I want to kiss you and do other things, but
I walk the straight and narrow because I try to be the best dad I can and set a
good example. So there you have it.”
“You think I’m gorgeous and sexy? Why
would you think that?” The question popped out before I could stop it.
His expression immediately changes into
one of exasperation. “Why wouldn’t I?”
“Because. Guys like you don’t go for
girls like me.”
“Guys like me? What’s that
supposed to mean?” He not only is surprised, but sounds borderline insulted by
my statement.
“Look at me.”
“That’s what I’m doing.”
“No, I mean, haven’t you seen me? And
you … you’re all, well, you could have any woman you wanted.”
“First, you act as though I’m blind.
Second, I like what I see. And third, I want what’s right here.”
“That doesn’t make sense.”
“Sheridan, I’m a photographer. I have a
very good eye.”
“You may, but you haven’t seen me
naked.” Then I clamp my hand over my mouth. Why the hell do I always say shit
like this? I’m forever putting my foot in my mouth.
“Is that an offer?” he asks with an
arched brow.
“What would your guy friends say about
me?”
He lets out a derisive laugh. “Guy
friends? I’m a twenty-five-year-old single dad. I was nineteen when English
pretty much fell into my life. All my guy friends were frat rats who were more
interested in fucking a different girl every weekend and getting as drunk as
possible before they did it. Do you think they were interested in me with an
infant? My guy friends dropped me like I had the fucking plague. The closest
thing I have to guy friends is my dad. Parents with kids English’s age are
usually older than me, married with a family, and don’t want to hang out with a
young single dad. So my friends are nonexistent.”
Our fingers are touching, and his
explanation suddenly makes him more appealing to me. I want this man. In my
bed. I want to find out if we’re sexually compatible. But I’m pretty damn sure
he’d be disappointed. On the other hand, what do I have to lose? Okay,
rejection is pretty hard to take, but it sounds as though he’s sort of into me.
Or at least he’s putting on a good show. At least he’s honest about what he
wants from me, and it’s all out in the open.
“Is English coming home tonight?”
“No,” he says, smiling. “Wanna test out
my big bed and play roll ’em?”
I start laughing so hard I can’t stop.
“I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“I have this damn boot.”
“I have an idea,” he says with a
twinkle in his eye.
“What’s that?”
“You can do the rolling, and I’ll do
the jumping.”
With the most serious face I can
manage, I ask, “Didn’t your mom ever teach you?”
“Teach me what?”
“Not to jump on the bed.”
His eyes narrow, and he says, “Yeah,
but it’s my bed, and I can do whatever I want in it.”
“I have to sleep on it.”
“We can do that, too, if you want.”
I laugh. “Not your bed. I have to sleep
on the whole marriage thing. This is a lot to take in. And as much as I’d like
to play roll ’em with you, I think I need to wait until this boot is a part of
my past.”
With half-hooded eyes, he says,
“Chicken.”
He may be right. What if we end up in
the sack and I want him way more than he wants me? Or what if he thinks I’m a
huge zero? And that my thighs look like they belong on an elephant instead of a
human?
“Why don’t we go back to my place and
watch a movie or something? I have another bottle of wine there, and we can
talk about this some more.”
I shake my head. “I have a better idea.
Why don’t you come to my place instead?” He knows very little about me, and if
he truly wants to do this, he needs to find out more about who I am.
“Okay, let’s go.”
