Page 71 of Meet Cute or Your Money Back

“You’re not giving him much to work with, Allie,” Thatcher whispers. “Ask him about what he likes to do.”

“So…” I clear my throat and swirl the wineglass. “Other than hiking, what do you do for fun?”

“I’d say I’m a pretty passionate guy,” he says, his hand finding its way across the table, fingers inching towards mine. I pull back, wrapping my hands around my glass like a lifeline. “I love mountain biking. White water rafting. Skiing?—”

“Skiing? In South Carolina?” I ask incredulously.

“I have a vacation house up in Boone,” he says with a knowing smile. Like he knew this little fact would earn him some brownie points. Hell, it probably does with most dates. “I’d love to take you there sometime.”

“Oh. Well, I don’t ski.”

“We don’t have to ski. It’s perfect for a romantic night in, too.” He leans in, and it’s not curiosity in his eyes—it’s something else, something presumptuous.

“You know what I’m passionate about?” I venture, hoping to steer this towards safe waters. “Food. I love food. I love eating.”

I grab a wedge of bread out of the basket in the center of the table and shove it into my mouth.

He’s momentarily taken aback. “Food, huh?” But it doesn’t stop him for long. “What’s your favorite?”

“I love all food,” I say, talking with my mouth full. “Literally. It’s my job. I’m a food reviewer for theCharleston Sun.”

“Wow, that’s incredible. So you can show me all the best spots in town. And in exchange, I’ll help you embrace your more…wild side.”

I swallow the hunk of bread and quickly wash it down with some wine. “I don’t have a wild side,” I say quickly.

Jason’s eyes pass over the low v-neck of my dress. “Oh, I doubt that.” His smile doesn’t reach his eyes; it’s a hunter’s grin, and I’m the cornered prey.

“He’s…awfully forward,” Thatcher says in my ear. “Allie, if you’re ever uncomfortable, cough twice.”

“Come on, there’s gotta be something,” Jason keeps pressing. “You’re too interesting not to have some wild secrets.” He’s prodding again, pushing for an intimacy we’re miles away from reaching.

“Everyone has secrets,” I quip, my eyes darting to the back of Thatcher’s head across the room. My face grows even hotter.

“Let’s make a deal,” he says, leaning closer still. “You tell me one of your dirty little secrets, and I’ll tell you one of mine.”

“We haven’t even ordered appetizers yet and you already want my deepest, darkest secret?”

He licks his lips and chuckles. “I don’t like small talk. I like to cut through the bullshit and get to the real stuff.”

“Like…secrets,” I say doubtfully.

“Exactly.”

“Allie, I don’t like this. His energy feels completely different than it did at the park,” Thatcher warns me.

I don’t disagree with him, but what am I supposed to do? Get up and leave the date?

I clear my throat. “Then you go first,” I say. “What’s your dark secret, Jason?”

“Well…” He leans in even closer, elbows on the table. “Did you know that seventy-six percent of women hold their breath during orgasm?”

I blink, unsure if I’m even surprised at the turn in theconversation. “Is your secret that you like to mansplain the female orgasm to women?”

He chuckles and shakes his head. “No. My secret is that once I learned this statistic, I realized that a little light choking during sex can heighten the experience.”

“During your orgasm? Or hers?”

“Hers,” he says simply.

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