Page 62 of Hearts on the Table
His head tipped back against the wall when I took the phone he’d thrust into my face. The screen was open to a food delivery app. My favorite Mexican place was already up. “Add your order.”
“My order?”
“For dinner. Or whatever you call it when it’s after nine p.m. and you’re eating your second meal of the day.” One eye crackedopen. “If we order now, it’ll be at my place a little after we get there.”
I added my favorite burrito bowl—extra cheese, jalapenos, pico on the side. I glanced at him again as we walked into the empty parking garage, then added a small queso dip, too. He was a doctor. Surely he could afford some queso? Or, better yet, I’d just sneak my card info in here and I’d pay for dinner. He’d gotten breakfast the last time we were together. It was only fair.
But when I got to the checkout page, I found he’d not only added a large queso but also a large guacamole and churros.Well, dang.
He plucked the phone away before I’d had the chance to add my credit card number. “You ready?”
“Ah, I think I accidentally added another queso…” I watched him click the order button and preemptively leave a massive tip for the driver. My mouth snapped shut.
He stopped when we got to my car, one of the only vehicles parked on this level at this time of night. His was parked a few spots down from mine, which made me strangely happy. While we’d been inside together all day, our cars had been friends. Cute.
“I know I don’t usually drink caffeine, but I might need some coffee when we get there.” A yawn cracked my jaw.
“Coffee would be counterproductive for what I have in mind.”
I frowned, opening my car door and slinging my bags inside without looking where they landed. “We don’t need…a lot of energy for what you have planned?”
“Nope.” He crowded me into my car, a little. It made me think of him kneeling at my feet in the R3parking lot, except this time he towered above my head. It sent a thrill straight through me. A good, tingly kind of thrill that made me second-guess the need for coffee. “Here’s my plan: Go home. Shower—separately,”he qualified, correctly reading the alarm on my face. I was in no state for shower gymnastics.
His big hands skimmed down my arm. You know, the ones I’d personally witnessed save someone’s life today? Those hands. “Clean clothes. Dinner. Maybe in bed? Then sleep.”
I gulped in a breath, then another, eyes darting around the empty parking garage. “That’swhat you want to do in bed tonight? Eat cheese dip and sleep?” Hallelujah and praise the Lord. The plan had taken a sharp left from where I thought he’d been going, and I couldn’t be happier about it.
“We can re-evaluate after a nap.” He looked me up and down. I probably looked completely wrecked. No makeup, hair frizzing to the high heavens and in shapeless scrubs. He still seemed pretty interested. Another point in his favor.
“You ordered my favorite dinner, and now you’re going to take me to your house to feed me and nap?”
“That’s the plan, yes.”
“You are so getting laid later,” I whispered.
He smiled in the dim, flickering lights of the parking garage. When he leaned forward to press a kiss onto my cheekbone, he whispered, “Never saw it coming.”
Chapter 23
Lainey
I woke up warm, blankets pulled up to my chin. Comfortable. I was one of those annoying fan sleepers who couldn’t settle without the whir of air being pushed around the room. Sam had remembered this and turned on the ceiling fan without me asking.
After I’d luxuriated in his massive shower, we’d eaten queso in bed and watched an episode of a World War II docuseries. When I’d suggested it, he’d almost fallen over in shock.
“What?” I focused on the piece of avocado quivering precariously on my chip. “I saw a good review. I’ve already watched the first one, but I’d rewatch it with you.”
“You watched a World War II docuseries? When?”
“I didn’t see you a lot this week.” I avoided his eyes, focused on my guac. “It reminded me of you.”
He froze, a forkful of rice halfway to his mouth. “That’s the hottest thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
It was a little intoxicating, doing something as mundane as watching a history documentary in bed. Spending a Friday night curled up with a bag of chips between us felt like playing house. I was being granted a sneak peek into what our future might be like if we hung onto this for the long-haul. Fun. Comfortable. Flirty.
So comfortable, in fact, it felt a little dangerous. This was only starting, even if it didn’t necessarily feel like it. My trust issues screamed I was getting too attached too quickly.Apparently, I was getting better at tuning them out, though, because I’d slept like a baby.
Until the brush of calloused fingers across my stomach stirred me. Outside the curtains, it was still dark. At some point in the night, the t-shirt I’d stolen from Sam’s drawer had ridden up, and he was capitalizing on it. He stroked a small patch of skin, back and forth. Every nerve ending in my body came alive.
