Page 37 of Tinsel & Tools
I stilled with my fork in hand. “That’s good.”
“Yeah, I’m excited.”
“What’s it about?”
He lifted a shoulder. “Just a love story. I’m a pantser, not a plotter, so I’m not one hundred percent sure where the story will go.”
“Pantser.” I took another bite. “You’re talking about writing or your pants?”
He laughed. “Which answer keeps me here longer?”
“Finish your dinner,” I muttered, avoiding his question.
“You could help with the outline.”
“I thought you didn’t plot?” I countered as I arched a brow.
“I might tonight.” He smirked, then forked a bite like he hadn’t just said it.
I shook my head. “You’re shameless.”
“Confident,” he corrected, chewing slowly. “Big difference.”
“You sure about that?”
“Positive.” He leaned in a little and lowered his voice. “Outlines can be useful. Structure, direction … knowing exactly how close I want to get.”
I narrowed my eyes at him playfully. “Pretty sure this isn’t about your book anymore.”
“Pretty sure you’re right.”
I pushed the last of my food around the plate, but the edge in his grin didn’t fade, not even when Hazel came by to clear the dishes.
“You ready?” I asked.
“Only if you are.”
I slid out of the booth, threw some cash on the table, and nudged my head for Gavin to follow me out.
“You driving?” I asked.
“Yeah, my car’s up near the bank.” He held my gaze. “I’ll follow you.”
“To the inn?” I asked, though I knew the answer.
“To your place.”
“We have an early start in the morning.”
“I know.” He took a step closer. “Tell me to go home and I will.”
I didn’t. “Meet you there.”
We walked through the square and then split for our cars once we got near the hardware store.
Inside my truck, I rolled down the window, needing the cool air to hit my heated skin. What was I doing? My grip tightened on the wheel as I headed toward my place. This would be the second time I let this happen. Once I could almost write off as an accident, a mistake, something that happened in the heat of the moment. Twice meant it was real, and I wasn’t sure what to do with that.
I told myself it was just between us; no one else had to know. But my pulse still raced.
