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She seemed to be waiting on some sort of response, so he smartly asked, “What?”
“I said, what are you doing?”
“Coming up to knock on your door?” he said, confused.
“I don’t need you to escort me.”
Landon ran his hands down his facial scruff. “Is this a test? Because I’ve been been looking at a lot of feminist social media pages lately and some say they want a man to be a gentleman, and some say they don’t want men to be gentlemen because they can do everything themselves, and I’m confused.”
Lucia shifted her weight to her other side. “Do you want to open my door for me?”
“Yep.” He turned and marched to her side of the truck, opened the door, and waited.
She looked back at the house a little too longingly, like she didn’t know if she wanted to go out with him. “I got you flowers, but I threw them away.”
Lucia’s gaze landed on the bouquet on her front lawn.
“Are those the flowers from Kirk’s rosebushes?”
“Yes. I cut the thorns off of them with my pocket knife.”
“And added dandelions,” she said softly.
“My dad has a yard-full. He could spare them.”
He moved the passenger door so it squeaked and hopefully encouraged her to move along. “I’m not good at small talk,” he told her.
“Are you good at anything?” she asked.
He thought about it. “I can fight, and I can make you come.”
Lucia nodded and stared at him. Nodded, and stared. “I’ll take the flowers.”
He made his way to the bouquet and dusted the dirt off it, then jogged up her porch stairs and handed it to her. “You kind of scare me, and I like that,” he muttered as she yanked them out of his hands.
“Good,” she uttered, and then disappeared inside.
Awkwardly, Landon stood on the threshold. Should he follow her in? Or…
She returned momentarily without the bouquet and slammed the door behind her. “Do you think I should change?”
“Into a bear?”
“No. Into other clothes.”
“Dear God, no. I think you should wear this exact outfit for the rest of your life.” He ran his hand over his hair and glanced back at his truck. “No.”
“Okay.”
She was just staring into his soul. This was girl-code, right? She was fishing for compliments? He wasn’t good at communicating the nice shit when he thought of it, or so every woman he’d ever tried a relationship with had told him. “Um, you look…”
“Yes?”
“You look…”
“Honesty is best with me.”
“You look like I would want to take you into the bathroom at dinner—hike your dress up, slide my dick in you, and put my hand over your mouth so you aren’t too loud when I finish you.”
