Page 15 of The List
“What?”
“You’re no little girl. You’re all woman, Cassie. And incredibly hot.”
Her cheeks pinken at that, and she looks down at the flowers she’s stuffing into a tall blue vase. “Well,” she says, smiling a little. “Thank you.”
“No, thank you. For inviting me over. For being really fucking sexy. For wearing my favorite color.”
Her smile gets a little bigger, and she looks down at her blouse. “Your favorite color is green?”
“It is now.”
She rolls her eyes, but she’s still smiling. “That’s such a line.”
“Maybe, but it’s true. You look amazing. Of course, you turned me on when you were wearing sweatpants, so it must be you and not what you’re wearing.”
She finishes fiddling with the flowers and shrugs. “I just wanted you to know I’m not always in Carhartt coveralls and work boots. Or hoodies and yoga pants. I do clean up pretty well.”
I give her my best sexy grin. “And you know how to get dirty when the occasion calls for it.”
It’s a ballsy move, going right for the reason we’re here instead of playing coy, but the gamble pays off. Her smile breaks into the real deal, sunny and open and warm. She laughs, and the tension between us is smashed into a million bits.
I’ve wanted her from the second I walked through the door, but I want her more now.
“Thank you for the flowers,” she says. “They’re beautiful.”
“You’re welcome.”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“I’m aware there’s no legal obligation to purchase flowers for a woman I’m sleeping with,” I say, making her blush again. “I did it because I wanted to.”
“Thanks.” She gives me a shaky smile. “Sorry, I’m just a little nervous.”
“Not a problem.”
“Want a glass of wine?” she asks.
“Sure. That sounds nice.”
“I hope pinot noir is okay. I opened a bottle last night, so it’s had time to breathe.”
“That’s perfect.”
We’re still acting a little stiff, which is not the sort of stiff I had in mind when I came here. Still, I understand the need for a little verbal foreplay. We’re not just going to jump each other the second I walk through the door.
Cassie hands me my wine, and we sit together on the couch.
This couch, I think, remembering the last time I was here.
“So how was work?” I take a sip from the wineglass.
“It was good. You know, you don’t have to pretend we’re dating. We can just get right down to it.”
I choke on my wine a little, but recover quickly. “It might help with the nervousness if we have a little conversation first.”
“Right. You’re right, of course. Sorry. This is still kinda new to me.”
I smile to let her know I’m not upset, and I take another sip of wine. “So how long have you lived in Portland?”
