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“What are you craving?” He reaches over and cups his hands over my belly.
“Peanut butter,” I blurt out.
He chuckles softly. “And I was going to offer to get takeout.”
“I was actually hoping you wouldn’t mind bringing me to pick up a new book this weekend. Unless you’re too tired to go tonight?”
He smiles wider when he feels a kick under his hands and lifts my shirt. “Of course not. We can grab dinner while we’re out.”
“Okay,” I squeak out when he leans down and begins kissing his way around my belly button. I shiver when his chin tickles my skin.
“Blake,” I begin, my voice breathy. “Why did you grow out the beard?”
“You know why,” he looks up and says with a smirk, and I make him laugh when I accidentally whimper.
“I don’t like that you feel the need to change anything about yourself for me. I shouldn’t have that much influence.”
“So you don’t like it?” he asks, sounding disappointed.
“Oh no, I freaking love it,” I breathe. “I’m just trying to be a good girlfriend.”
He chuckles again and sits up, leaning in to plant a kiss on my forehead this time. “You’re already the best girlfriend I’ve ever had.”
I roll my eyes. “That’s not saying much, is it?”
“I’m going to freshen up,” he says with a smile, ignoring my dig. “I’ll meet you in the truck in a few minutes?”
“Okay,” I reply quietly before I watch him walk away. I go into my own bedroom to throw on a comfortable dress. It’s one of my favorites because of the Elvish pattern, and I put on a pair of wedged sandals. But once I make it to the garage, I’m confused to find Blake’s truck missing. My phone chimes at the same time I glance around.
Gus-Gus
I’m here to pick you up for our date, ma’am.
I narrow my eyes at the message and turn to the road. Sure enough, Blake is standing at the curb, leaning against the open passenger door of his truck.
Loren
Who said anything about a date?
Gus-Gus
Get your sweet ass in the truck, Agnes. I’m starving.
Better?
Loren
Much.
I try not to smirk at him as I slip my phone into my purse and walk over. He wordlessly reaches down to help me climb inside, then shuts my door and comes around to the driver’s side.
He taps on the screen and switches the bluetooth input to my phone, and I put on an old playlist from the year we graduated high school as a nice compromise.
“So, ah, what new book are you just dying to pick up today?” he asks, breaking the silence.
“It’s actually just a special edition of one of my favorites, and I could use another copy because I sort of read my old one to death,” I admit sheepishly.
“Oh. Does this book have a title?”
