Page 30 of Vince
Sydney
Holy shit.The moment Vince gets me away from the crowded diner and in the privacy of his Jeep, he kisses me for all I’m worth. My toes curl, and my ovaries practically explode from my body with the passion of this kiss alone. He could’ve had a million different responses to my overreacting, but no—he kept me on my toes and handled me better than anyone I know.
Most guys don’t see the ticking time bomb before I ignite, but Vince saw it coming from a mile away and defused the situation by respectfully putting me in my place. Sure, he let me rant and get what I needed off my chest, but he also didn’t make me feel like an ass for being such a total bitch and jumping to conclusions either.
Then he played it off, like he got some satisfaction of wanting to kiss and make up. If this is how he handles things, I might have to provoke him more often.
Not really—but damn, the man can kiss.
When he finally pulls back, the grin on his face is infectious. “FYI—for the future, I’m not so keen on the pissing you off part, but I have no problems with making up.”
He runs his palm down his face and turns to start the engine—while I’m left utterly speechless.
Is he some kind of mind reader, too?
Neither of us say a word as Vince pulls out of the parking lot and heads toward campus. My mind spins a million miles a minute, and I’m having the hardest time latching on to a thought long enough to voice it aloud.
After a few blocks, Vince breaks the silence with, “Do you need to be home right away?”
I shake my head but realize since he’s driving, he needs to hear the words. “No.”
“Mind if we go for a drive? I’m a little amped up and would love a quick trip up the gorge.”
Not wanting our time together to end just yet, I easily agree, “Sure. Sounds good.”
He drives us out of town along the Columbia River to an unknown destination. The road is intermittently lined with trees and every now and then, I catch a beautiful glimpse of the river as the sun sets behind us. As Vince expertly maneuvers us through the twists and turns of the road, he must be at a point where he no longer needs to shift, because he reaches over and places a hand on my thigh. Liking the way it feels, I instinctually put my hand over his to keep it in place.
“You know, Syd, I do feel bad that you were upset by something I could’ve easily avoided.”
“Everyone has a past, Vince. I can’t expect to know everything all at once,” I remind him.
“True.” He’s quiet for an unusual amount of time. When he finally breaks the silence, his tone is rougher than I expect and laced with emotion. “So, you won’t get the wrong idea about me, there’s a lot of things that are hard for me to talk about. But please just ask, rather than jump to conclusions, okay?”
“Of course,” I whisper loud enough for him to hear as I squeeze his hand. “Please know I typically don’t fly off the handle. But there are a few non-negotiables for me. Cheating and deadbeat dads are two things I just can’t handle.”
Vince clears his throat as he removes his hand from my leg to downshift around a sharp corner. Once we’re back up to speed, his hand returns to my thigh, and I resume holding it. “Well, those are two things you can be certain I’ll never be. I’ve watched firsthand what’s happened to Vanessa and Julia—in the deadbeat dad scenario—though that’s a story for another day. I also don’t believe in cheating. If you’re contemplating it—there’s no point in staying with that person. Your relationship is already doomed. So, you may as well cut bait.”
“Wow—so women are like fish to you? Do you think they go bad after three dates or something?” I have no idea where that came from once it’s out. My free hand flies to my mouth to keep from saying something more.
What the hell is wrong with me?
Thankfully, my sass only makes Vince fill the cabin with a low chuckle. “I’ve never heard the saying go quite like that… but something tells me after three dates, I likely won’t tire of you.”
Great—now we’re planning our third date.What the hell happened to my dating diet?But the thought ofnotgetting to know Vince better also feels wrong. My stomach literally drops at the thought and suddenly feels as if it’s filled with lead. No—as long as Vince is around, I’m pretty certain I won’t be sticking to that diet.
Of course, I can’t let him know that. He already thinks I’m a nutcase and extremely reactionary. “What makes you think we’ll be going on that third date? You haven’t even made it to our second.”
He tilts his head and agrees with a nod. “True. But if you consider dinner and hanging out a date—we technicallyarein the middle of our second—but maybe it’s just technically me crashing your plans.”
“I’d hardly say you crashed my plans,” I deadpan.
“Hold that thought,” Vince says as he exits the road unexpectedly, stopping at a convenience store. Of course, this forces me to grip the oh-shit handle as we hit a few potholes I’m sure my Honda would be sunk into.
When he brings the Jeep to a stop, he looks over with a shit-eating grin. “Quick, what’s your favorite flavor of ice cream?”
“What?” I ask, not having a fucking clue why he suddenly plummeted into the parking lot.
With pleading eyes, he’s determined. “Give me your top two if you can’t decide.”
