Page 25 of Sipping Seduction
“I hope you don’t think this is too forward, but where do you see yourself in five years, Frannie?”
He maintained eye contact while I tried to decide how to answer. I could go the safe route and talk about my career. Or I could be real and tell him exactly what I’d envisioned for my future and how far away from the path I’d always seen for myself I was currently standing.
“You can be honest. I don’t scare easily,” he teased.
I swallowed a sip of wine for courage, then set my glass back down on the table. “Well, I guess in five years I hope to be married to my best friend and working on building a life together. I’d like to have a couple of kids and probably a dog. I’ve always wanted a big old house out in the country where I can have a garden. I suppose that sounds kind of boring to someone who grew up in a big city.”
“Not at all.” His lips spread into a wide smile. “It sounds perfect.”
“What about you? Do you think you’ll stick around Beaver Bluff or do you think you’ll be too bored?”
“I guess that depends.”
The server picked that moment to deliver our food. “The ribeye served medium-rare for the lady, and the ribeye served medium for the gentleman. Can I bring you anything else?”
“Nothing at the moment. Thank you,” Andrew said.
I wanted to ask him what he meant when he said that depends, but I was also a little afraid of what he might say. Figuring it would be better to take things slowly and not force them, I sliced into my steak.
“Is that done enough for you?” Andrew asked.
“It’s perfect. My dad used to order his rare if you can believe it. He’d tell the server to run it over the grill for thirty seconds on each side and bring it to him while it was still cold in the middle.”
Andrew wrinkled his nose. “That sounds like an interesting way to order your steak.”
“My dad’s a pretty interesting guy.” Or at least he used to be. Now he was a shell of the man who’d once raced me to the top of Crockett Trail and would take me tubing down the Little River in the summers.
“Are you close?”
I nodded. “Since my mom passed several years ago, it’s been just the two of us.”
“I’m sorry for your loss.” His forehead creased, and he looked like he regretted asking.
“Thanks. My dad’s been having some memory issues. He lives in a senior living center just outside of town.” I wasn’t sure why I was opening up to Andrew since I usually didn’t share so much with about my personal life with people I didn’t know very well. Although, to be fair, there weren’t very many people around Beaver Bluff I hadn’t known most of my life.
“That sounds like my family. I lost my dad in a freak fishing accident when I was twelve. Now my mom’s remarried to a guy with younger kids. I feel like I’m on my own most of the time. That’s one of the reasons I moved to Beaver Bluff, to be around family.” He lifted his glass and held it out to me. “How about a toast?”
“To what?” Ready for a change in the mood of the conversation, I picked up my wine.
“To found family. My dad always used to say the family you find along the way is just as important as the family your’re born into.”
I clinked my glass against his. “Your dad must have been a pretty smart guy.”
Andrew smiled, and I returned the grin as I took a sip of my wine. He might not set off fireworks inside my chest, but talking to him felt like having a conversation with a trusted friend. Shakespeare didn’t write any sonnets about that, but it seemed like friendship might just be the one thing that could last.
CHAPTER13
Evan
“They don’t havea model called Magic Mick on the website. What am I going to do?” I stared at my laptop screen, cursing myself for opening the damn box in Frannie’s closet.
Miller held what was left of the chewed-up dildo. He was getting way too much pleasure from watching me struggle. “What about that one? It’s pink.”
“It doesn’t have the ridges like Magic Mick does. See?” I pointed to the base of the vibrator. “How am I supposed to tell if it swivels?”
“I vote for that one. It’s got steel rotating beads and the little thing on the front looks like a tiny bunny.” Miller pointed to the related products section. “Oooh. It also comes in purple. What’s Frannie’s favorite color?”
“What if I just give her a gift certificate to the Kink Closet and let her pick out her own toy?” Thinking about Frannie slipping any of those fake dicks between her legs had me equal parts jealous and pissed. I wanted to be the one taking care of her and keeping her satisfied, not some rubbery piece of plastic.
