Page 6 of Spring Fling

"I, uh, might’ve come a little… prepared.”

She narrows her eyes suspiciously. "Wait a second. Are you pulling these questions off your phone?"

“Not exactly.” I sheepishly pull the small stack of cards from my lap and set them face-down on the table.

She stares at them and then at me. The back of my neck starts sweating and I resist the urge to tug at my type. “You actually made a list."

“In my defense,” I clear my throat, “my friends' wives helped me come up with them.”

“That’s… smart, and honestly kind of sweet.” Sparkles dance in her eyes. “It shows you care, and I like that.”

I swallow and wait to see what happens next. She reaches for the cards, and I hand them to her. She picks up the top card and studies it closely.

“‘What’s your favorite pizza topping?’” She nods thoughtfully. "Very important to know.”

"Hey, it’s an important topic," I protest.

"Agreed." She sets the card down, resting her chin in her palm again. "But I think it’s my turn now."

She leans closer across the table, her scent hitting me—something soft and floral and a little wild.

God, she’s something.

And smart. And funny.

And… she’s so damn real.

She taps her finger against the tabletop. "Let’s see… if you could be do anything in the world, what would you be doing?”

“I’d be right here doing this,” I answer without thinking.

The truth of it stuns me as much as it seems to stun her.

Her eyes widen slightly, her cheeks coloring a soft pink. My dick twitches. I want her.

Not just in the way that makes my body ache. I want to know her.

I want to make her smile again and again until it’s the most natural thing in the world. I lean back slightly, fighting the urge to reach for her hand.

“Okay,” she clears her throat, her voice gone a little husky. “Next question... are you a dog person or a cat person?”

"Dogs," I say immediately. "Big, sloppy ones that think they’re lapdogs."

She laughs again. “Good answer.”

I barely notice when the server clears our plates, or when the low murmur of the restaurant shifts into something quieter.

The world has narrowed to her. The way she laughs. The way she teases me.

The way she looks at me like maybe she feels it too.

After another round of drinks, and dozens of questions, my sides heart from laughing.

I also notice her squirming in her seat. It’s subtle at first. A little shift here, a tug at the hem of her dress there. But soon, it’s clear she doesn’t want to be there. Even if her words suggest otherwise.

I lean forward, resting my elbows on the table. “Are you okay?”

Her cheeks flush, and she leans in conspiratorially, dropping her voice. “It’s the underwear.”

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