Page 53 of The Riskiest Move

“Tonight’s been a lot of fun,” she says. “There’s only one thing I’d change.”

Jesus. I hope it’s not the kiss.Just because she enjoyed it doesn’t mean she wanted it.

“Why the hell did they serve carrot cake for dessert? Ugh, what a disappointment.”

I laugh with a combination of relief and amusement. “I know, right? That’s not the cake I was hoping for.”

“I feel like we got ripped off. All that edging and no happy ending,” she says.

I bark out a laugh. “I have an idea that might help with that.”

“What?” she asks.

“You’ll see.”

I turn into the next grocery store parking lot I see and pull into a space. I cut the engine and turn to her. “Let’s go get dessert.”

She looks down at her dress. “Like this?”

“Yeah. Why not?”

She shrugs. “Okay.”

Sliding out of the seat, I hurry around to open Scarlett’s door and help her from the car. I hook my arm for her to hold on to as we walk across the pavement. “In case I didn’t make it clear earlier tonight, you look beautiful.”

Smiling, she casts an appraising glance my way. “Thank you. You’re pretty devastating in that tux.”

“I am?” I clear my throat. “I mean, I am.”

She laughs. “Now, that sounded more like a professional athlete.”

I chuckle. “It’s good I’m finally getting the hang of it. Sometimes when I go to work I feel like I’m out of my league and wonder how I got there.”

“You shouldn’t doubt your skill. You belong on the team and are an asset to it.”

“That’s nice of you to say.”

“I mean it.” She pats my arm with her free hand.

When we enter the store, a few heads turn our way, but we pay them no mind. I lead Scarlett toward the bakery section, which is at the other end of the store.

“Ooh, I love this song.” She lets go of my arm to spin around as the singer croons about taking someone’s breath away.

This could be my theme song for Scarlett. Without fail, she steals my breath whenever we’re together. “Grocery stores always play the best music.”

“The streaming services should add these playlists. I bet they’d be a huge success,” she says.

Catching hold of her hand, I spin her toward me and slide my other hand across her lower back. “We didn’t get to dance at the gala,” I offer in explanation, but I really just had an overwhelming urge to get her in my arms.

“Yeah, the string quartet wasn’t exactly playing our jams.” She laughs.

I grin, swaying side to side with her gentle curves pressed against me. This is the best part of my night so far. But as all the best songs do, this one ends and then another upbeat eighties tune begins.

I raise her hand and press a kiss to the back of it. “Thank you, my lady.”

“You’re most welcome, kind sir,” she replies without missing a beat.

I hook my arm again. “Shall we?” She takes hold and we continue to the bakery, where an array of cakes and pastries are on display. “See anything you like?” I ask.

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