Page 34 of Lucky
Lucky grins, proud.“Told you.High bar.”
“Well, I can’t compete with ferret-based rejection,” I say, raising my coffee in salute.“You win.”
He leans back with a smirk.“Honestly, I’ll take my chances with Buttermilk.I understand from your videos that he’s judgmental, but I like my odds better with him than an emotionally attuned ferret.”
I laugh again, but my brain short-circuits a little.He thinks he’s meeting Buttermilk.That implies he will be coming to my house.Me, inviting him in.Letting him into more than just this experiment.
And wow.Why doesn’t that feel as scary as it should?
Over the next hour, we cover everything from favorite childhood snacks to irrational fears.He tells me he once had a recurring nightmare about being tackled by a giant tiger mascot that bounced on its tail like Tigger.I admit that I still check behind the shower curtain before I pee, just in case.
It’s fun.Easy.The kind of morning that sneaks up and makes me forget I’m technically still part of a public social endeavor.
When we’ve both demolished our plates and the coffee’s nearly gone, he leans forward, fingers tapping the rim of his mug.
“I want to see you again,” he says.
My heart does a little lurch, but I play it cool.“You are seeing me.”
Lucky rolls his eyes.“You know what I mean.A third date.Just us.No cameras, no commentary.Just… more of this.”
I chew the inside of my cheek, hesitating.
“I’d like that,” I admit.“But…”
His brows lift.“But?”
“I do have a date tonight,” I say carefully.“With someone else.”
He goes still for a second.Not angry.Not surprised.Definitely processing.
Then he nods.“Right.The experiment.”
I nod.“I just… want to be fair to what I started.Even if this”—I gesture between us—“is starting to feel less like data and more like something I don’t totally understand yet.”
His voice is quiet.“I can work with that.”
I smile, soft and small, because that’s not what I expected.No guilt trip.No possessive vibes.Just… understanding.
“I’ll text you,” I promise.
“It’s a plan.And hey”—he stands as I rise from the booth—“no matter how the data shakes out, you can’t deny the pancakes were top tier.”
I laugh.“They were.And so were you.”
We step into the morning sun.He walks me to my car, not touching me but close enough I feel his warmth.
“Good luck tonight,” he says, but his eyes twinkle mischievously.“I hope he’s everything you’re not looking for and the data supports I’m a much better catch.”
I hope so too.But I don’t dare voice that.
“Good luck at the game tomorrow.I’ll be watching.”
Lucky smiles, bends down and kisses my cheek.I have to force myself not to touch the skin, which actually tingles from his touch.
He starts to walk to his vehicle and my eyes inadvertently drop to his butt.Damn… he’s got an amazing ass.
When my gaze lifts again, he’s got his phone out, holding it up in front of him with the reverse camera pointed back over his shoulder—squarely in my direction.
