Page 89 of Conflict
THIS ISweird.
I’m pacing the floor of my condo, mentally checking items off my to-do list. Tonight’s our third date, and I want everything to be perfect. Our first two dates—not counting the one last year in Navarre—were standard, as far as I could tell. Dinner, drinks, and the aquarium on our second date, a great way of getting to know each other better than we already did. Date two was to a Falcons game. Once I found out how much she loves football, I scored big with fifty-yard-line tickets.
Just not inthatway.
No, I’ve stood firm on going slow, and up until tonight, we’ve done nothing more than make out like horny teenagers. Not that there’s anything wrong with that. It’s actually been kind of refreshing. I never knew getting to know someone, taking your time with them, could be this way. But the more I learn about Alyssa, the happier I am she’s giving us a chance.
I’m just turning on the whole condo stereo when the doorbell rings. I press play then make my way to the door. I may check my hair in the mirror right next to it.
The moment she enters my vision, she takes my breath away. The first thing I notice is the way her hair hangs in waves, framing her beautiful face. She’s dressed casually, in black leggings and a teal-colored off-the-shoulder sweater. The sight of her bare skin makes me want to kiss her right there in the curve of her neck.
It’s been three weeks since Branson’s wedding, and three weeks since I was inside her. I don’t know how much longer I’m going to be able to resist. Isn’t date three that magical number where the magazines say it’s okay to put out?
“Are you going to stand there and stare or let me in?” she asks, her eyebrows raised in question.
“You’re fucking beautiful.”
Her lips curve into a smile as she steps inside and places a hand on my chest. “Such a romantic,” she teases. “Now, kiss me like you mean it.”
And I do.
The next thing I know, Alyssa’s jumped up into my arms, her legs wrapped around my waist, and we’re making out like the world’s ending and we don’t have enough time. All too soon, she pulls away, staring directly into my eyes.
“Hi.”
One word, so simple, yet something about it makes my heart soar. “Hi.”
She slides down my body. “Is it too early to say I’ve missed you? This was such a long week, and since I didn’t have you to cuddle with every night, I swear I haven’t slept well.”
With a final kiss on the tip of her nose, I take her hand and lead her towards the kitchen. I pour her a glass of wine and set it on the island in front of her. “Sit. Let’s talk while I finish up dinner. Tell me about your week.”
And she does. We go back and forth, discussing our work weeks, griping about long days, sleepless nights, and only being able to communicate over the phone. I haven’t spent the night with her since the night of our first date because it was way too fucking hard to keep myself from fucking her. Tonight, however, I have plans for her to stay here, no matter what.
“It smells heavenly,” she says as her stomach growls. “What are you making?”
I can’t help the pride I feel when I describe the first meal I’ve cooked for her. “A pan-seared filet mignon with a goat cheese risotto.”
“When you cook, you don’t mess around, do you?” she teases.
“Only the best for you, babe,” I tell her.
Alyssa pauses and studies me, tapping her finger on the island counter. “Shane, you could make peanut butter and jelly and I’d love it.”
I grin. “I’ll do you one better. Next time, I’ll make you a peanut butter and jelly burger. You’ll never eat hamburgers the same again.”
She wrinkles her nose, a reaction I’m used to whenever I bring my signature sliders to a tailgate party. “Jelly on a hamburger? No, thank you.”
“Hey, don’t knock it till you try. I’ll have you know if I wasn’t CFO of the Atlanta division of Wellington, I’d be a celebrity chef.”
She grins. “I’d certainly pay to watch you work in the kitchen.”
“Play your cards right, sunshine, and you can watch, for free, whenever you want.”
A smile plays at her lips as I transfer dinner to plates and pick them up.
“Follow me,” I tell her, leading her to a small dining room right off the kitchen.
Alyssa takes a sip of her drink and sits down. “I have to say, I’ve never had a man make me dinner before.”
