Page 73 of Mr. Swoony

“Conor doesn’t have a son whose young heart is at risk.” Ruby’s explanation makes sense. Henry had Bodhi to consider too. “If you have to hear it out loud, I like you. Does that make you happy?”

Jade nods enthusiastically, and Henry puts his arm around her shoulders.

“Oh jeez, get out all of you. I have a bar to run.” Ruby stands from the keg. “Ladies, don’t be jumping around scared of spiders. Show them how it can be done.” She eyes each of the women, then rests her eyes on Tweetie. “No picking up strange women in the woods. In fact, stay out of the woods. I’m not putting cream on your poison-ivy-covered ass.” She waves and walks back into the bar as we all say goodbye to her back.

“She’s fun,” Eloise says.

“Be thankful she was so nice,” Jade says as she and Henry walk toward their SUV.

“I guess we’ll see you there.” Rowan waves, tucking Kyleigh into his side. “We’re going to make out like teenagers while Daddy drives.”

Everyone laughs while I cringe, and I walk Eloise to the passenger side.

“Tweetie, do you want shotgun?” Eloise asks him.

“Fuck no, I’m sleeping.” He slides into the back seat.

I open the door and lean down to say into her ear, “I hope you can control yourself. I can’t be distracted.”

She climbs in. “I’ll try, but you’re so sexy I’m not sure I can.” She waves her hand, fanning herself.

I chuckle and shake my head, rounding the back of the SUV. All I can think about is that list in her bag and how much I want to be the one to help her fulfill it too. Hell, even more than the other one. Finding that just made this trip that much harder for my blue balls.

Twenty-Nine

Eloise

Conor booked us a suite at the hotel, which means I have my own room, and he has his, and they’re on opposite sides of the living area. It was a nice gesture, but I’ll admit to being a little disappointed. I understand that he’s being respectful because we haven’t talked about us or where we’re going. That needs to change. We need to have a conversation so I can tell him where I’m at.

When I step out of my room, I hear ice cubes dropping into a glass. Conor is at the bar, concentrating on making his drink. I take the opportunity to watch him. He’s wearing blue slacks with a white shirt with the faintest light blue stripes running down lengthwise. The dress shirt is tucked into his waistband, secured with a black belt. I’m assume his matching jacket is hanging somewhere. God, he’s gorgeous with his chestnut hair styled away from his face, his strong jawline prominent, and his lean, muscular frame evident beneath his clothes.

He glances up and looks back down at his drink, but then his head pops back up. Without a word, he sets his glass down and walks toward me, his gaze running up and down my body several times.

“I’m sorry, I went a different route.” I clasp my hands in front of me and shift my stance, crossing my ankles.

“Don’t be. You clearly know your body best.” He hasn’t looked at my face yet.

When he took me to the boutique, I decided to buy the dress he picked out. It was a shorter dress that hit above my knee. But I ended up returning to the store and exchanging it for the one I’m wearing. It’s light blue with spaghetti straps and a ruched overlay that ends just past my kneecaps. There’s no slit, but with the clingy fabric, it reads classy and sexy I think.

“You’re killing me, Eloise.” He takes my joined hands, weaving his fingers through mine and resting my arms at my sides. “You’re by my side all night, you hear me?”

I smile. The lust in his eyes brings an ache between my thighs. “I’m your date.”

“Yeah, you are.” His voice is hoarse, so he clears his throat. “Do you want a drink before we go?” He drops my hands and steps back, turning toward the bar.

“Sure.” I follow him to the bar, admiring how his ass is snug in his slacks.

“Champagne, wine, or I’m making a vodka tonic if you prefer.”

“I’ll have a vodka tonic too.” I place my clutch on the bar top and watch him pour the drink, squeeze the lime, and plop it in the glass.

Neither of us says a word, but the energy between us feels as taut as a tightrope.

“Thank you for agreeing to be my date.” He hands me my drink, raising his for a cheers.

I clink my glass to his. “Thank you for asking.”

We both take a sip, then rest the glasses on the bar top.

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