“Oh yeah?” My tone was playful, teasing.
“Yeah. Consider me your personal tour guide.” She drained the last of her coffee, her tongue darting out to lick her lips.
I clutched my thigh beneath the table, fighting back the urge to kiss her. The evening was winding down, and the coffee shop would be closing soon. But I wasn’t ready for our time together to end. Somehow, despite countless hours on the phone, numerous emails and texts, and spending the evening together, we still hadn’t run out of things to talk about. I wasn’t sure where we went from here, but I knew I wasn’t ready to say goodbye. Definitely not tonight and perhaps not any time soon.
When an employee made a show of bussing a nearby table, I said, “You want to get out of here?”
She nodded and stood, and I placed my hand on her lower back without even thinking. When I pushed open the door, I got a whiff of her scent—vanilla and sugar, like cookies. Like heaven. I wanted to lick her from top to bottom. I wanted to eat her up and go back for seconds. Thirds.
We stood outside on the sidewalk, and she kept glancing around as if debating what to say. Finally, she seemed to come to a decision, meeting my eyes. “Do you want to come back to my place?”
Fuck yes.I licked my lips, wanting more than anything to kiss her.Play it cool, Cujo.
“I’d like that.” I smiled. “I grabbed an Uber to get here from the hotel. I can order another or…”
“Don’t be silly. You can ride with me. I’m just over here.” She pulled out a set of keys, and the lights blinked on a Range Rover.
Swanky. I tried not to let my surprise show as I followed her over to the car.
I settled into the leather seat and laughed when a song by Taylor Swift blared through the speakers. Olivia quickly reached for the controls, flustered as she attempted to turn it down or switch it off.
“Sorry about that.” She flashed me a sheepish grin.
“Someone was rocking out,” I teased, trying to imagine it. The sunroof open, windows down, her singing along to Taylor Swift. The image made me smile.
Luckily, traffic was relatively light, and we made it to her house in about twenty minutes. Along the way, she pointed out various landmarks, and I wondered if she was nervous. She wasn’t usually quite so eager to fill the silence when we spoke on the phone. And her grip on the steering wheel told me she wasn’t as calm as she’d have me believe.
“This is me,” Olivia said, pulling into a driveway.
Cute, charming, welcoming were the first words that came to mind when I saw her Craftsman. I followed her up the stairs to the front door, small lights dotting the path. The grass had been recently trimmed, and all it was missing was the white picket fence and two-point-five children. I had a brief vision of a child with Olivia’s doe eyes and chestnut hair swinging from the tree out front and shook it away.What the hell?
“Come on in.” She pushed open the door, and I followed her inside.
The smell of freshly baked cookies wafted through the air, giving me a sense of home I’d never experienced as a child. There had been no fresh-baked cookies or nice furniture. There had been broken lamps and overturned tables. Bruises and tears.
A large picture window overlooked the front yard and original wood details had been preserved, even if some of the house had been modernized. I heard the scratch of claws on the wood floor and a meow before Olivia said, “Uh oh.”
I glanced to where she was looking and saw a beautiful, but large, gray cat sauntering toward me with a haughty air. Though, didn’t all cats have that same attitude—imperialistic?
“And you must be Luna.” I grinned as she brushed against my leg. I reached down and scratched her chin as she purred with contentment.
“Wow. Um, okay. I didn’t see that coming.” Olivia shook her head as if she couldn’t believe her eyes. “She usually runs from strangers, especially men.”
“Clearly she recognizes my voice.” I turned to Luna. “Don’t you, Lunakins?”
Olivia laughed. “That must be it.” She kicked off her shoes, and I followed suit. “Do you want anything to drink?”
“Some water would be good.”
She turned for the kitchen, while Luna climbed on the armchair by the window and proceeded to groom herself. I walked over to the fireplace, curious about the framed pictures on her mantel. Olivia walking along the beach as a little girl, with a woman I assumed was her mother.
“Wow.” I picked up one of the frames to get a closer look. “Is this you and your dad?”
It had to be—they had the same eyes, the same chin, the same smile.
Olivia set the drinks on the coffee table but stilled when she saw what I was holding. “Yes.”
“You guys really go all out for Halloween, huh?” I chuckled, amazed by how realistic her father’s football uniform was. He’d really committed—with pads and sweat dotting his forehead. And Olivia was in one of his arms, decked out like a true Hollywood Heatwaves fan.
