Page 98 of Fortunate Misfortune
Even though everything is black, it’s too easy to picture the slow, gorgeous smile taking over Kenneth’s face. He gives me one of those low chuckles that makes my skin tingle and turns the radio off.
“Considering you’ve said that twelve times in the last fifteen minutes, I think I’m well aware of your aversion to letting me surprise you.”
I groan, reaching blindly for his hand and frown when I can’t find it. “You’re being sneaky. Are you taking me somewhere crazy like Nobu?”
“There’s not one in Clear Lake. Do you want to go there instead?”
“No.”
“Good.” His hand slides into my lap, callouses sliding over my skin before he laces our fingers. The thrill that surges through me from something as simple as his touch leaves me lightheaded. “Because I think you’re going to love what I planned.”
I roll my lips together to keep myself from smiling. There’s no doubt in my mind that whatever he has planned is going to be perfect.
Quite frankly anything would be fun with him. I’d pick up trash on the side of the highway during a thunderstorm without an umbrella if it meant I might get a little more time with Kenneth Gray.
Even with his hand in mine, I can’t sit still, smoothing my outfit for the umpteenth time.
With little guidance on dress code, I went with my trusty frayed denim shorts and a violet knit top. Per Adri’s suggestion, it’s unbuttoned low enough to see the lace tank beneath.
He looked like a dream in dark gray and black when I swung the door open, his eyes devouring me like I was a purple Skittle.
“How many first dates have you planned?” I ask. “I can’t imagine you’ve had many if blindfolding someone is your idea of a good time. Wait, I take that back.”
By the chuckle he lets out, I know my innuendo lands, but he doesn’t answer my question, and without fail, my brain shifts into worst-case-scenario mode.
Does that mean he’s been on a lot of dates? How many is a lot? Ten? Twenty? One hundred?
I rip my hand out of his grip to cover my face. “On second thought, don’t tell me. I don’t want to know the number of women you’ve wooed.”
“Wooed?Are you sure you aren’t an ancient old woman?”
“Excuse me. You’re the one who puzzles for fun.”
He takes my hand again and presses a soft kiss to each knuckle, his breath tickling my skin. “Would you believe me if I told you this is thefirstfirst date I’ve ever planned?”
I almost ask if he’s joking, but there’s no tremble of humor in his voice. Instead, there’s a shyness that makes me want to wrap my armsaround him and never let go.
“Why does that make me feel incredibly special?” I ask, squeezing his hand a little harder.
Finally, the car slows with the rhythmic click of the blinker, leading us into what I assume is the parking lot of a restaurant or movie theater. The usual first date locations.
When the car shifts into park, I reach for the blindfold, but he stops me with his voice.
“Not yet, beautiful,” Kenneth says, and his door creaks open.
I smile at the thought of him jogging around the truck. I’m not sure I’ll ever get over him opening my door when we’re together.
The April breeze cools my bare legs as he helps me out of the truck, and as if I’m not already discombobulated, he spins me around a few times.
When his heavy hands rest on my shoulders to steady me, he leans down, his breath warming the shell of my ear. “You are incredibly special. And I’ll make sure you never forget that.”
Then the fabric falls off my eyes.
I blink a few times, shielding my eyes as they adjust to the real world again. It takes a moment, and once they do, the checkered flag that whips in the wind makes my stomach do a somersault.
“Go karts!” I shriek, inhaling the smell of burned rubber and gasoline. “I haven’t done this since I was a kid.”
Kenneth wraps his arms around my waist. “I’ve seen the way you speed in Flintstone and thought you’d love this. I originally was thinking about taking you to play paintball, but I remembered you called it—”
