Page 84 of Pucked Up Plans
Tate twists to see the time. “Wow. Guess it is.”
Cue the awkwardness of the goodbye. Because I want to kiss her, but I expect she won’t let me.
“Friday’s only in five days,” she mutters. Then she peers at me. “What time is the fundraiser? So I can figure out a plan with Aunt Marsha.” Her cheeks flame crimson. With a waggle of her brows, she asks, “What time does it end?”
“It starts at seven, but we don’t have to be there then. I think it ends at eleven.”
“I’d love for you to say we don’t have to stay until the end.” Cue an intake of breath as she waits expectantly for my answer.
Which I make her wait for. I interlace her fingers, her skin smooth against the rough edges of mine. “Depending on when we get there will dictate when we can leave. I think the auction’s over at nine-thirty, so not before then. I’ll need at least an hour to schmooze with the guests.”
“What kind of food does the restaurant serve?”
She’s testing my memory of the restaurant’s menu. “Pub food. Burgers, sandwiches, salads, fries.”
“I’m sure Aunt Marsha will feed Aubrey dinner if I ask. I wish you could come over before so we had extra time.”
“Why can’t I?”
Her forehead creases adorably. “It will be very difficult to get me to attend the event if you ply me with sex before.”
A vision of Tate sucking my dick flashes in my eyes. “Duly noted,” I huff out, the words scratching my throat. “Let me know what you decide, and I’ll pick you up then.”
She nods once. “You should go,” she whispers.
“I’m going,” I murmur back. Neither of us makes any moves to follow through.
“Thanks for the flowers, Walsh. I neglected that when you arrived. The purple is too pretty.”
That’s pretty much what Jenny mentioned. Damn, she knows her shit.
“You’re welcome.”
Our gazes hold a few more beats, then I make my move to leave but not before she remembers Lennon’s chicken nuggets.
In front of the door, she bites the inside of her cheek, no doubt a tactic so she doesn’t kiss me. I’ll oblige her tonight, but on Friday, all bets are off. Before and after the fundraiser. She just doesn’t know it yet.
“Will I see you at preschool tomorrow or Tuesday?”
“No. She’s with Meg until Tuesday night.”
“Oh. More transitions this week than usual?”
“The holidays always fuck with the schedule. Lennon is usually unfazed by it as long as she knows what’s coming, where she’s going, and for how long. Although Mom said she gave Megan some pushback today. But she was tired. Or pissed at me because I told her she couldn’t come to the game.” Tate yawns. “But we can talk more on Friday. Or during the week on thephone.” I can’t leave without at least a peck on her cheek. A little bubble of disappointment pops when she doesn’t take it any further, but I can’t blame her.
She calls my name as I reach for the door. “Thanks for tonight. For not letting my fear get to me. I can’t promise what happens next, but I’m here for it.”
“Good enough for me. Night, Tate.”
“Be safe in the snow. Text me when you get home.” A shudder ripples through her as her eyes watch the falling flakes.
As I make my way to my car in the chilly November air, I can’t help but smile. She doesn’t comprehend she made it very clear what comes next for us.
I’m yours.
I can’t wait to make it official on Friday.
CHAPTER 20
