Page 38 of Playing the Field
Bart’s hand leaves my thigh, and he raises them where Hunter can see them. “Happy now? Not that it’s any of your fucking business.”
“That depends,” Hunter says, his breath ghosting my cheekand making me feel things that Bart’s sloppy hands never could. “Are you happy, Gracie?”
Bart’s lips spread into a smile. “Oh, so you two know each other? Is this part of a game or something?” His legs tighten around my hips, and he scoots forward on his stool as though he’s been invited to a threesome.
“It’s. Not. A. Game.” Every word that falls from Hunter’s mouth hits my ears like champagne bubbles, lulling me into a fizzy sort of dream that starts and ends with him. “Back the fuck away from her. Give her some goddamn personal space.”
Bart’s knees drop open, and I take a step back. “Better,” Hunter says. Before I can gather my wits, he nods at me and pushes through the crowd, leaving me on my date. I can see him heading toward the back of the restaurant, and before I think too long about it, I tell Bart to give me a minute and chase him.
“Sure, I’ll be here,” Bart says, looking over my head as though there might be someone better he can talk to. I hope there is.
When I get to the back of the restaurant, I see Hunter in the alcove past the open kitchen. There’s a hallway with vintage photos of Los Angeles and candles burning on a narrow table against the wall. Hunter is sitting on a toile-covered bench situated opposite the restroom doors.
“How are you here?” I ask.
He laughs and pantomimes driving, then makes a walking gesture with two fingers. I cross my arms and shake my head, unimpressed by the explanation.
“Okay, fine.Whyare you here?”
“I came to check on you.”
“You what?” I can’t process the information, unsure if I’m flattered that he cares enough to check on me or annoyed that he came to spy on my date. Like I’m such a social basket case that I need him to check on me. If I wasn’t constantly reminded that he’s Kyler’s best friend, it hits me squarely now. He sees me as hisresponsibility, like a kid sister you watch out for on the playground when she tries the monkey bars for the first time.
I want to remind him that I’m thirty-three and this isn’t my first date, but there’s a small part of me that likes that he came here to look out for me. I have no idea what to make of that. Or him.
He hikes a thumb over his shoulder in the direction of Bart. “Back at the house, he seemed a little overly invested in touching you. Just wanted to make sure you were okay.”
“Overly invested?”
“Handsy. Are you into that? Should I leave you alone?”
My temper flares. I need to set him straight. “I’m not some newbie dater who can’t handle herself, if that’s what you’re thinking. I carry pepper spray, FYI.”
He smirks, nodding. “I don’t doubt it for a minute. Look, I’m not trying to offend you. If you tell me you’re into him or whatever, I’ll head home. No harm, no foul.”
I should tell him to go. But I don’t want that.
Reaching slowly toward me, he pulls at my forearm, gently uncrossing it from the other one. Then he takes both of my hands and tugs them down to my sides, urging me to relax. My shoulders fall, and I take a deeper breath. Standing in front of him, I puzzle through the complexities that are this man.
One minute, he seems more than happy to shove me out the door on a date. The next, he steps in because his radar correctly tells him I’m not into Bart.
Letting go of one hand, he releases his grip on the other one and lets his slide away almost entirely. But then he wraps one finger around mine and hangs on, keeping the vaguest connection but not letting go. He looks at me, but his dark gray eyes are unreadable in the dim light of the hallway.
I don’t need to see him. I go by feel, my body quivering at the merest touch of his hand.
“Take me with you,” I whisper. I don’t know what I want fromhim yet, but I know that I want something. I also know that I’ll follow him out the door in a heartbeat if that’s what he’s asking.
Even in the dim light, I see his eyes darken to a molten charcoal. The hungry way he’s looking at me makes me want to slide onto his lap and feel him between my legs.
“I’ll take you anywhere you want to go, Tink.” I shudder as the images rush through my mind of all the places I want him to take me and the way it will feel. Slowly in the back seat of his car. Hard against the kitchen counter from behind. Languidly on the sofa bed in his room with his clean scent wrapped in the sheets and our sweat-slicked bodies moving in perfect sync.
My eyes drift shut as my imagination runs to a place I’ve never allowed it to go.
I’m a woman who fantasizes about solving complex algorithmic problems. I don’t fantasize about men like this.
Until now. Until this man blows everything I knew about myself to bits.
A small moan escapes my lips, and my eyes pop open to see if he heard, but the noisy restaurant saves me from embarrassment.
