Page 15 of Falling for Red
“That sounds great. What’s your coffee order?”
“Why?”
“When I pick you up, I’ll bring coffee.”
I want to bring her a morning treat before our long walk, the perfect date to keep peeling back her layers. I want to know everything about her.
11
Is this guy for real?I wonder as I look across the table at Jake. He’s sweet and considerate … almost too good to be true.Who do I have to thank for him being this way?His mom? His ex? It’s hard to believe someone can be this good without a catch.But there’s always a catch.
“A vanilla latte, no whipped cream,” I say when he asks about my coffee order for tomorrow. He’s already planning our morning date, and I’m letting myself get swept into it.
“What time should I pick you up? The sun rises around five thirty.”
“You casually know when the sun rises?”
“A habit from the Marines,” he explains. “I don’t need an alarm. I’m up at zero dark thirty every day.”
Of course, he’s disciplined.Before Gabby, this fact would have been a red flag, but I’m also up early each day.
“Tomorrow is a rare opportunity for me to sleep in,” I say with a small laugh, “but I’ll be awake by seven, guaranteed.”
Anna, our server, approaches the table. “Looks like we enjoyed everything. Would you like anything else? Boxes?”
Jake doesn’t hesitate to ask, “You still want that post-meal cocktail?”
“I’d love one more negroni, thanks.” It’s been a long time since I felt this comfortable with someone.
“Same here,” he adds, and Anna walks away.
“How about you pick me up at seven-thirty?”
“Roger that,” Jake says, and the smile on his face …he’s a Golden Retriever, I think, shaking my head internally. He’s just so ... happy. Where are the red flags? Where are the flaws? It’s almost like he’stooperfect.
“I feel like you’re judging me,” he says, tilting his head like he’s catching onto my internal monologue.
“My internal thoughts are less skeptical about you than when this date started.”
Jake reaches for my hand, squeezing it gently. His hand is big and strong. I glance down at our hands, loosely holding each other on the table. It’s strange how natural this feels—like this isn’t our first date, like we’ve known each other longer. I glance back up at him, smiling, enjoying this moment, and then down at our hands again. My mind briefly wanders to the last time I felt this at ease with someone.It’s been a while.
“Tell me some more habits from the Marines that are hard to break.” The Marines must have shaped him. Maybe if I understand more about him, I can find something that makes him less perfect—something more human.
“I have to work out every day.”
“Haveto?”
“I feel out of whack if I don’t. Plus, at the station, there’s a lot of downtime, so it’s easy to fit it in.”
“I go in waves with working out,” I admit, unsure why I’m sharing this. “Currently, I’m not working out much.”
“Don’t be too hard on yourself. You’re on your feet all day, and I’m sure you’re picking up and carrying your daughter around. More activity than most.”
It’s sweet, but all I can think about is how jigglier I feel compared to where I want to be. Especially compared to his perfectfuckingbody. I glance down at the table, tempted to deflect, to brush it off.
“You look great. Don’t stress about it.”
“Can you read my mind?” I joke, but there’s a nervousness in my voice. I don’t think I’m that easy of a book to read.
