Page 34 of Forget Me

“Well, um, thanks for doing it. Are you sure you didn’t have anything else to do tonight? A date?”

He turned to look at me, narrowing his eyes. “No.”

I sagged back into the seat. “And I’m sorry they got the wrong impression about us. Natalie somehow got the idea that we were dating, and I didn’t correct her. And then you—you went with it. Why?”

He focused on making a sharp turn toward the exit. When he straightened out the Jeep, his eyes swiveled left and right, checking for cars pulling out unexpectedly. Finally, he said, “I want to help you, Mimi. Supporting you on the planning committee, making more of our friendship and our date, whatever you need.”

“Is this about that day you spilled coffee on my presentation?”

Pulling to a stop at the garage exit, he glanced at me. “Perhaps.”

Ah, guilt. I was thankful my mother hadn’t baked that into me. “Don’t worry about it. Really. And you don’t have to pretend for me.”

He kept his gaze on the road, but his lips twisted up on one side. “It’s no hardship.”

“Really? Because it seems like a lot.” I wouldn’t have done it for him. Or anyone other than Bree or Ben.

He shrugged. “If all I have to do is pretend we’re sleeping together, it’s not so bad.”

“Sleeping together?” I squeaked. Suddenly, there wasn’t enough oxygen in the car. I directed the air vents toward my flaming cheeks. “Do we have to be sleeping together? Maybe we should get our story straight.”

There went that crooked smile again. “Bella, if you’re dating me, we’re sleeping together.”

The deep rumble of his voice set off a throb between my legs. I squeezed my thighs together. “No. We’re so new that I’m not ready yet. We’re just dating.”

He glanced at me. “But I’ve kissed you, right?”

“I—I guess.” Kissing was pretty innocuous.

“What about making out? Have we done that?”

“Like, are you asking what base we’re on? Are we in high school?”

His big shoulders tensed. “No, I was just checking to see how much I should touch you.”

Touch me? I reached for the air conditioning knob and cranked it all the way into the blue. “Touching isn’t necessary.”

“Why? Are you sensitive about touching?”

The sibilance of his question ghosted across my skin like a warm breath, setting off tingles inside me. I hit the window control to lower it until icy air blasted over my cheeks. “Sensitive?”

“I mean, does it bother you?”

“Not—not especially.”

“Then hand-holding wouldn’t be a problem for you? I think they’d expect us to hold hands.”

“I guess that’s fine.”

“Maybe a touch of your shoulder, or your cheek?”

I was tempted to hang my head out the window like a dog. Showing up to the driving range sweaty was not a good look. But neither was windblown hair. I cleared my throat. “Also fine, I think.”

“Good.” He grinned. “I can work with that.”

Cool relief flooded into me when he turned into the parking lot of a venue I knew well: Pine Hills Golf Club, where we were hosting the gala because of Larissa’s connections.

I might be unfamiliar with golf, but it had to be easier than riding in a car with Mateo and talking about touching.

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