Page 27 of Bourbon Bliss
“In other words, I didn’t ask you first, so it couldn’t be a date?”
I nodded. “Yes.”
“All right, so tell me this. Can an encounter that was not agreed upon ahead of time as being a datebecomea date?”
I had to ponder that for a moment. His hand was still on mine—more or less holding it now—and the tactile sensations were vying for attention with the thoughts in my brain. And winning.
“Yes, I suppose that’s possible, depending upon the circumstances.”
“So one could make the argument that this is now a date.”
“This?”
“Yes, this. You and me, here tonight. I didn’t ask you ahead of time, but I did buy you a drink.”
I had to concede, this was very date-like. “Yes, it could be considered a date. But why the preoccupation with labeling?”
“No reason, really. I’m hoping you’ll say yes to another one, though.”
“Another date?”
He grinned. “Yes, another date. With me. Are you free tomorrow?”
Was this really happening? Was George Thompson asking me out on an actual date? Tomorrow was Saturday, and under usual circumstances, I’d be—
“I’m free.”
“So that’s a yes?”
“You really want to go out on a date with me?”
He picked up my hand and brought it to his lips again, kissing the backs of my fingers. “I absolutely want to take you out on a date. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t.”
“Then, yes.”
I gazed into his brown eyes, feeling a little dazed and dumbstruck. We’d met on several occasions now, and had multiple chances for conversation. And he still wanted to take me out on a date.
Why? I really didn’t know. But maybe—just maybe—George Thompson liked me for me.
9
June
My dad was prompt, as usual. He’d texted earlier to ask if he could stop by at six-thirty, and at precisely six twenty-nine, he knocked.
“Hi, June Bug,” he said when I opened the door.
He came in and gave me a hug.
“Hi, Dad.”
I had thirty minutes before George would be here to pick me up. I felt a little nauseated and wondered if I should cancel. Putting a hand to my forehead, I estimated my temperature. It felt normal.
“You all right?” Dad asked.
“Yes, I’m fine.” I led Dad into the living room and we both sat on the couch. “You said you had something for me?”
He smiled and handed me an envelope. “Go ahead.”
