Page 53 of Holidating
“Still,” Carly says. “A girl could have a lot of terrific sex in four months. Come on! Just give me one detail.”
I bite my lip, gather up four ketchup bottles and carry them away. I will not gossip about Weston to Carly. Even though I am impressed. And I can say with certainty that hockey players do possess an awful lot of stamina.
“You have a dreamy look on your face,” Carly says with a snicker. “Are you seeing him again tonight?”
“No,” I say. “We’re going out to dinner on Sunday. So nobody had better ask me to work a shift.”
“If he’s taking you out, that sounds like a relationship!”
“We’re settling up a bet,” I insist. “Stop using that word, Carly. Weston doesn’t do relationships.”
“He hasn’tyet,” she argues. “You could be his first.”
“It’s never happening,” I tell the both of us. Because I’m not dumb enough to fall in love with him.
Thank goodness for that.
CHAPTER 19
MAKE IT A GOOD ONE
WESTON
I’m waiting outside of El Cortijo—a kickass little restaurant downtown on Bank Street—and practically tapping my toe with impatience.
Abbi isn’t late. But after a long week, I’m just really looking forward to seeing her again, and having excellent Mexican food.
And, fine, excellent sex. I’ve been buzzing ever since our night together, and I need a repeat. Now, preferably.
I've spent the last couple of days thinking about Abbi. Actually, that's the polite way of putting it. It would be more accurate to say that I spent most of my waking hours remembering how good it was to finally spread her out and love her up like I'd been wanting to for months now.
And now I'm hooked. I can't stop thinking about it, or planning our next naked adventure. Here stands a desperate man, hungry for both tacos and sweet, sweet satisfaction.
“Weston!” I swing around to see her trotting down the sidewalk toward me, a hat perched on her head, her cheeks pink from the cold. “Were you waiting long?”
“Nope,” I say, lunging for her. I pull her in and kiss her hello.Veryfirmly.
She wraps her arms around me and gives it right back. But thenshe breaks off the kiss before I’m ready. “Well hello, sailor. How was the war?”
“Just been, um, waiting to do that.” I give her a big smile. Then I grab the door handle and usher her inside. “Have you been here before?”
“No.” She shakes her head. “It’s so cute.”
It is, I guess. The restaurant is in one of those old metal diner cars from the fifties. There’s counter seating on the right, and a single row of booths stretching the length of the left side.
Luckily, there’s a spot open in the middle, and a waitress shows us to the table and puts down two paper placemats. “Can I start you off with some drinks? Beer? Sangria? Margarita?”
Abbi’s eyes light up. “I’d love a margarita. On the rocks, no salt. Thanks!”
I order a beer, and then watch as Abbi scans the menu. “God, this looks great.”
“It is.” I chose this place because it’s casual. The food is amazing here, but it isn’t date-night fancy. I didn’t want to make a big statement, you know?
Just a casual dinner between friends.
Friends who are definitely getting lucky later. If I have anything to say about it.
“What's your usual order?” Abbi wants to know.
