Page 9 of In Knots

“My parents worry something will happen to me.”

“You’re a bad driver?” he asks, his mouth curving to one side like it did out there by the side of the road.

I laugh. “I like driving. Especially out here.” I peer out at the countryside, dark under the rolling clouds. “It clears my head.”

“I know what you mean.” He assesses me again and I think he’s trying to figure me out. Good luck to him. I haven’t even figured that out myself. Then he swings his gaze back to the counter. “Ahhh, here it comes.”

“Here what comes?” I ask, but my question’s answered when the waitress stops by our table and plonks down a huge glass dish, piled high with scoops of ice cream, drenched in chocolate syrup with several pink wafers protruding from the creation. She slides it to the alpha, placing a spoon down next to it.

“Thanks,” he says, “but we’re going to need another spoon.” He winks at me and pushes the ice cream my way, along with the spoon.

“Oh, I can’t eat this!” I say, holding my hands up in front of me.

“Diana makes the best ice cream in the county.”

Diana preens under his compliment. “We make it ourselves.”

They both stare at me and I cave. I dip the spoon into the nearest scoop, something brown with chunks, taking a tiny piece and lifting it to my mouth. The sugar hits me instantaneously, and I allow the ice cream to melt in my mouth before I swallow it.

“Delicious,” I say. Diane grins.

“I’ll get you that other spoon.” Her eyes flick between me and the alpha and I bet she thinks we make a strange couple.

I place the spoon back on the table and slide the dessert the alpha’s way. He slides it straight back.

“That’s all you’re going to eat? I bought it for you. It’s a hot day and you look like you could use an ice cream.” Is he referring to my pink cheeks?

My hand hovers over the spoon. It’s hard not to respond to an alpha’s request. There’s that tug deep in my gut that wills me to do as he says, to please him. It’s not just that tug though that’s propelling me to please him. I want to make him smile again.

“When was the last time you had an ice cream?”

“Honestly,” I say, digging my spoon into the dessert. “I don’t remember.”

“Shit, that’s sad,” he says without a hint of that smile. “I thought princesses would be all about the ice cream.”

The opposite is true. But I don’t tell him that. He probably already thinks I’m a joke.

I take another mouthful, meaning to stop after that, but it’s so good, so cool and refreshing, so sweet, that I take another and another and another.

“You going to save him some, love?” the waitress says as she returns with the alpha’s spoon.

“Oh sorry,” I say, dropping mine, my cheeks sizzling.

“Don’t stop. I like watching you enjoying yourself,” he says, jerking his head my way, and I take another mouthful, my face now surely tomato red. “What’s your favourite flavour?” he asks me and as I open my mouth to answer, he stops me, “No, wait, let me guess.” He leans forward, arms resting on the tabletop, squinting at me. “Hmmm, something exotic like raspberry ripple.”

I giggle. “Raspberry ripple is not exotic.”

“It is. Am I right?”

“Nope, I like honeycomb best. The kind with crunchy bits in it.”

“You have a sweet tooth.” I shuffle on my seat. My sweet tooth has been a thorn in my mother’s side. “You think it’s a bad thing?” he asks.

“If you want nice teeth and a nice figure, then yes.”

“There’s nothing wrong with a bit of sweetness, of indulgence, of pleasure, in life. Life would be dull without it.”

I nod. Is that what I’m missing from my life? Ice cream sundaes? I think it’s something more. “What’s your favourite flavour?” I ask him.

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