Page 403 of One More Kiss

“And maybe you and I have different versions of dirty that’s acceptable in the back of a car.”

His earlier amusement vanishes, and his gaze darkens, rolling over me like warm honey that leaves me a sticky mess beside him. “Pretty sure you and I have very similar versions of acceptable ways to dirty up cars, and if I knew you’d be up for it, I’d be all in.”

My cheeks redden as an image of us dirtying up his car in all the right ways flashes through my mind. I clear my throat and point toward the dark road ahead of us. “There’s a park across the street. If you want to eat there.”

“Okay.” He turns onto the main road before pulling into the empty parking lot in front of a large, grassy slope that leads to a baseball field and a swing set. Once the car is parked, I grab the bags of greasy goodness and reach for the door handle when he puts his hand on my thigh, squeezing softly.

“Sorry, Princess. I’m going to have to insist you wait for me to open your door.”

“Seriously?”

“Rules are rules.”

“Maybe I don’t like to follow rules.”

“Maybe you shouldn’t tempt me to show you what happens when someone disobeys them.” With a wink, he gets out of the car, that same confidence oozing out of every pore. My eyes narrow into tiny slits as I debate whether or not to push his buttons before deciding against it.

For now, anyway.

The passenger door opens without so much as a tiny squeak before he offers his hand.

“You listened,” he notes.

“You’re surprised?”

“Actually, yeah,” he admits with a crooked smirk. “Come on.”

Side by side, we walk down the slanted slope before sitting down on the freshly trimmed lawn. The cool grass tickles my bare thighs as I open the brown paper sacks and hand him a fish taco. “One for you.” I reach into the bag again and pull out a second taco. “And one for me.”

Tilting his head to one side, Hawthorne takes a bite of fishy goodness before his tongue darts out to catch a bit of the juice from the side of his mouth. The moon glints off his Rolex, making him look like a damn alien. In a fancy suit. In the middle of a dark park. On the grass, where he’ll probably get grass stains.

Pretty sure I couldn’t make up a more foreign scenario for the guy, but he’s handling it like a champ and looks sexy as hell while doing it. When he catches me staring, he grins but doesn’t comment on it before taking another bite of his dinner, which happens to be takeout.

The horror.

“Why are you staring at me like that?” he asks.

“Like what?”

“Like I belong on another planet.”

“Well,” I scan him up and down with wide eyes to prove my point. “Look at you.”

“What about me?”

“When was the last time you had takeout?”

He pauses before wiping the side of his mouth with the back of his hand. “Honestly? I have no idea.”

“Exactly. And you’re sitting on damp grass in a fancy suit, wearing your fancy watch with your fancy car parked a few feet away. I mean, it’s a little out of the ordinary for you, don’t you think?”

With a shrug, he takes another bite, chewing thoughtfully as he digests my remarks. He swallows and mutters, “Maybe lately, but I didn’t always own the fancy suits and car.”

“Oh really? And where did you come from, Mister No-First-Name?”

“A small town like this one.”

“Oh.”

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