Page 60 of Tinder Embrace
"Nah, you just look like tomorrow’s sore throat. You’re gonna make me lose my voice, aren’t you, Davis?"
Chuckling, he shook his head slowly before closing my door. "Naughty girl, I’ll give it my best,” he promised. “Drive safe."
His final words stayed with me long after I'd driven away from the Pruitt Farm, Davis in my rearview mirror.
I'd trusted Davis with my body, but was I ready to trust him with my heart? My head urged caution, but my gut whispered that I might never find another man who touched me like he did.
My bed felt empty as I crawled beneath the covers, but I still went to sleep with a smile on my face.
I had another night with Davis to look forward to. Which reminded me, I needed to stock up on condoms, stat. Exploring the chemistry between us meant practicing safe science. I giggled, contemplating what other lab equipment we might want or need. Honey would be awfully sticky, but fun. He made me want to try new things, figure out how to bring out that rough and tumble side to him.
He always called me his Bee. Maybe it was time to live up to that moniker, show him how sweet life together would be?
***
Wednesday after work, I made good on my promise to stock up on protection, swinging by the store on my way home. Davis had texted that he'd pick me up at six, leaving me a couple of hours to take care of errands and get ready. Having condoms on hand had risen to the top of my priority list after last night. While we'd proven that different degrees of intimacy could be amazing, I wanted options.
The grocery store's lot was almost empty. Only a few cars were parked in front, and none I recognized. I crossed my fingers, hoping to escape without running into any witnesses. As much as I wanted to tell myself I was setting a positive example, buying protection, that didn't meanI wanted to entertain any awkward questions if I ran into one of my students. Second grade was a bit young for detailed sex ed.
I made it home in time to slip out of my school clothes and into something that felt more me. Jeans and a top in a cheerful shade of blue.
Davis: Running late. Be there in 30.
It wasn't the best news, but at least we'd still get to eat at a reasonable hour. And I'd get to see Davis.
Butterflies took flight in my tummy, scrambling my emotions in a mix of anticipation and nerves. I had nothing to be afraid of. Not with Davis.
I sprang for the door when he knocked, eager to see him.
"Hey, beautiful."
From another man, it might have been a tossed-out compliment, more manipulative than sincere, but the way Davis's eyes ate me up, taking a leisurely tour from the top of my head, past the valley between my breasts and down to my ankles, I had faith that he meant it.
"Hiya, handsome."
Also not a lie. Davis was freshly showered, his dark hair slicked back and free of a hat for once. He'd put on a plaid shirt that he'd buttoned and tucked into jeans that clung to his hips. He looked tasty enough to eat, and I debated tugging him inside instead of following him to his truck.
"Ready?" he asked, the question hanging in the air as I debated my options.
The fresh box of condoms was burning a hole in my nightstand. But he'd put so much effort into getting ready for our date, I couldn't derail his plans.
"Ready," I said, locking up and following him out to the parking lot.
Dining options in Campfire were pretty limited, mostly Izzy's pizza restaurant, A Slice of Heaven; our local bar, Sing-along; and the morning coffee spot. Davis surprised me by driving past them all and out into the countryside.
"Where are we headed?" I asked.
"You'll see."
We'd already turned away from the Pruitt Farm, and the steady drizzle made eating outdoors unappealing and unlikely. Plus, I hadn't spotted a cooler or takeout bags.
I smiled when he turned off Old Country Road and into the Gentle Flight Winery parking lot. At this hour, their tasting room was closed, but Davis didn't seem worried. He drove around the small cabin that housed wine tastings and parked in front of one of the guest cottages. Gentle Flight had started hosting weddings, and the guest cottages were usually booked by wedding parties from May through September. However, on a Wednesday in March, the luxury cottages with glass walls overlooking the vines were empty.
A familiar figure welcomed us when Davis knocked. Cole Fenwick, Gentle Flight's winemaker, ushered us inside. I always thought of Davis as massive, mostly because I was relatively small, and he eclipsed me. Colereminded me that, where Davis made me feel diminutive, Cole towered taller still, well over six feet, with his lanky swimmer's body.
"Welcome. I've left dinner in the oven and the table is set. Enjoy your evening."
Cole slipped away with a smile, no doubt headed to his own cottage on property.
