Page 12 of Daddy's Naughty Bartender
"I'm not yours," I manage.
"Not yet." He signs the receipt, stands, and offers me his hand. "But I'm patient."
Outside, the night air is cool against my flushed skin. We walk slowly to our cars, neither seeming eager to end the evening.
"Thank you," I say softly. "For dinner. For helping with Josh. For..."
"For seeing you?" He stops beside my car, boxing me in gently with his body. "My pleasure."
"This is probably a terrible idea."
"Probably." He braces one hand on the roof of my car, leaning closer. "Want to tell me to leave you alone? To go back to Chicago and forget this?"
"No." The admission comes out breathless.
"Good." His free hand cups my jaw. "Because I have no intention of forgetting you, Karen Mitchell. You've been taking care of everyone else for so long. Maybe it's time someone took care of you."
"I don't need?—"
"I know you don'tneedit." His thumb brushes my lower lip. "But maybe youwantit. Maybe you're tired of being everyone's rock. Maybe you want someone else to make the decisions for a while."
"You don't know what I want."
"Then tell me." His voice drops to that commanding tone that makes my knees weak. "Tell me what you want, baby."
The endearment undoes me. "I want... I want to not think for five minutes. To not be responsible for everything and everyone. To just... let go."
"I can give you that." He's so close now I can feel his breath on my skin. "If you'll let me."
"I'm scared."
"I know." He presses a kiss to my forehead, gentle and cherishing. "But you're also brave. The bravest woman I know."
"How can you know that? We've known each other a week."
"Sometimes a week is enough." He steps back, giving me space to breathe. "Sometimes you just know."
I want to argue, to list all the reasons this is impossible. Instead, I hear myself ask, "When will I see you again?"
His smile is slow, pleased. "Tomorrow night. There's a wine tasting at the winery. Come with me."
"I have to work."
"Susie can handle one evening or call someone else in." It isn't a question. "Seven o'clock. Wear something that makes you feel beautiful."
"You're bossy."
"You have no idea." Another kiss to my forehead, then he's opening my car door. "Drive safe. Text me when you're home."
"I'm not going to?—"
"Karen." That tone again. "Text me when you're home. I need to know you're safe."
I nod, not trusting my voice.
The drive home is a blur. I sit in my driveway for a full minute, trying to process the evening. Josh's anger. Jason's steadiness. The way he's made me feel cherished and challenged in equal measure.
My phone buzzes.
