"They're my favorite thing here."
He looked up and gave her a sexy smile. "I remember."
Willow could feel the heat that pulsed through her body and tried her best to keep her cool. Not a big deal that he remembered that from all those months ago. Totally normal. Everything was fine and this would be a normal date.
But when she looked back down at the menu, Willow caught herself hoping that this date wouldn't be normal.
Chapter Four
They were the last people to leave the restaurant, just like they were the last to leave on the night they met. Willow wasn't sure if that was a good indication of how the rest of the night would go or not. She kind of wished it was a good sign, but her brain was starting to overthink things again.
It was another nice spring night in Chicago with a light breeze coming off of the lake through the streets, cooling it down just enough to be pleasant without being too cold.
Thatcher walked next to her with his hands in his pockets, but he was still close enough that his arm would occasionally brush against hers. Each time, it would send a shock through her skin and she almost felt like the contact was more intimate than holding his hand.
"Oh, hey. I forgot to ask you something at dinner. Why did you put the reservation under Warwick?"
"Everyone recognizes my name in this city," he said. "I use Warwick instead for reservations and things like that. Figured it would be easy to remember since Kent and Warwick are both cities in England."
"So when you're traveling for work, your reservation is under Warwick?"
"During the season, my reservation is actually under Lord Warwick."
Willow couldn't stop the laugh that bubbled out from her. "Lord Warwick? Is that what you expect me to call you?"
There was a moment of silence before Thatcher finally answered.
"You can call me whatever you want."
His voice had turned a little gravely, like the night he took Willow home and fucked her senseless. The air felt different around them suddenly as if he was thinking about the same thing. Like he remembered that night in his bed with her.
"Uh… So."
"So," he said quietly.
They stopped in front of the entrance to her building and she looked around to see if anyone was nearby. She gave him an awkward smirk and tucked a strand of hair behind her ear.
"So this is me."
Thatcher turned to stare at the revolving door. "Does it have to be you?" he asked without looking at her.
"Well, this is where I live."
He shifted on his feet, and Willow wondered how a big brawny football star could go from being so confident to looking kind of unsure of himself. But then he took a deep breath and turned, his eyes locking on to hers.
"You don't have to go home just yet, do you?"
Willow should say she had to go home. She should say it was time for her to leave and get ready for work in the morning even though she couldn't even think straight enough to remember if she had to work tomorrow or not.
But Thatcher smiled at her with that smile of his and she couldn't help the words that came out of her mouth.
"I don’t think I have to go home just yet."
Thatcher's smile grew and he reached out to grab for her hand, his fingers entwining themselves with hers. Willow felt nervous as he gave her arm a little tug, but she followed him anyway. It was a good nervous, a delicious nervous. She knew what was probably going to happen. She had been to hisapartment before, had done things with him already that she thought she may be able to do again tonight. But there was still something about the whole thing that made her nerves fire hot.
As they walked into his building, Willow was reminded that this wasn't like her place with its warm tones and oversized couch in the lobby. The entrance to Thatcher's place was crisp and modern, maybe even sexy. There were a few gray chairs that matched the gray walls, and a glass coffee table close by.
But she only got a glimpse as Thatcher gave a quick wave to his doorman and pulled her into an elevator on the other side of the lobby.
