Page 37 of Love Is Ale You Need

“What kind of date did you expect from me?”

“Honestly?” I glance up at the inky sky filled with stars. “A few hours at Sugar Daddy’s followed by dinner at The Pink Taco.” I tilt my head, a half-smile on my face. “But also, who thought it was a good idea to name a business The Pink Taco?”

A deep laugh escapes him. “Seeing their location is next door to a strip club and they sell tacos, it’s kind of brilliant. If they sold soup and sandwiches, it might be a little awkward.”

“True. That wouldn’t make any sense." I run my fingers along the hem of my dress. “But seriously, this date has been amazing. Is this what all your dates are like?” I’m fishing for information and doing a terrible job at it.

He reaches for my hand, flipping it over, and traces the lines on my palm with his fingertip. The soft touch almost tickles. “No. Dates like this are saved for special occasions.”

“What’s the special occasion?”

He glances up at me, a smile flirts on his lips. “You finally saying yes to a date with me. It needed to be memorable, so I can persuade you into a second one.”

Sitting up, I lean closer, so my lips are poised over his. “If I’m being honest, you’ve already done it.” I bite on the corner of my lower lip, causing his eyes to drift downward. His hand starts at my knee and slides up my thigh a fraction, sending an eruption of goosebumps over my entire body. Then his lips are on mine. It’s soft and sensual and everything I’m not used to from Trey. But certainly, it’s something Icouldget used to.

He pulls away, making the kiss entirely too short. “What do you say we get out of here?”

First, it’s been forever since I’ve been on a date, but it’s been even longer since I’ve had this much fun on a date, and I don’t want it to end. I’ve fought myself so long because I thought it was the right thing to do, but like Dessa said, I need to be a little selfish. Tonight, I want to do just that.

As I rise, the incessant throbbing from my heel to my toes intensifies and I cringe. Apparently, my feet are done with these shoes. Sitting down for the past hour didn’t give them the break they needed. I’ll muscle through the three blocks we have back to the car, then they’re gone.

Trey reaches down and intertwines his fingers with mine. The gesture is simple, but also the sweetest. At every opportunity, he wants to be near me, touch me. I never expected him to be this sweet. He’s the perfect mix of cocky playboy and sweet boy next door. And he’s making it hard not to fall for him.

The incessant throbbing much like a steady heartbeat shoots through my feet with every step. Finally, my feet rebel and I stumble forward.

Trey glances down at me, eyes laced with concern. “Are you alright? You only had like half a glass of wine.”

“I can’t do it anymore.” I stop. “These shoes. They have to go.” I drop his hand and grip his bicep for support. Kicking up my leg, I reach behind me and flick off one shoe. It clatters to the sidewalk and I repeat the process on the other side. I exhale a sigh of relief as my bare feet are no longer constricted in three-inch heels. “There. Much better.”

“You’re not walking barefoot to the car.”

“I’m not putting these godforsaken things back on.” I hold up the pair of heels.

Trey steps in front of me and bends down, wrapping his arms around my thighs and lifts.

A half giggle, half shriek escapes me. “What are you doing?”

“Carrying you.”

“Back to the car?”

“Yes.”

“That’s like three blocks.”

“Get comfy then.”

“Oh my god. I can’t believe you’re doing this.” I giggle. Other couples stroll past us, and I smile and wave. I’m sure it’s not every day they see a grown man carrying a woman down the sidewalk.

“I hope this doesn’t kill the romantic mood, but what’s the story with Abby’s dad?” Trey asks.

My body stiffens. “Mood deflated faster than a popped balloon.”

“We don’t have to talk about it. Forget I asked.”

It’s not a giant secret I’m holding on to, but I hate even mentioning Kyle’s name. It gives me hives, but Trey deserves to know the truth since he asked. “No. It’s fine. But do you want to do this while you’re carrying me over your shoulder down the sidewalk?”

“Sure. It gives me a possessive edge. Like I’m whisking you away.”

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