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He nodded.
“I have a feeling he’s around here. I hate the man, but I know for a fact he loved his kids. Although his wife might still have a restraining order against him.”
“Please tell me you’re not planning to approach him and talk to him.”
“I don’t know,” she said. “I don’t think so. I mainly just want confirmation that he’s moved on and living his own life.”
“So this is more of a recon mission?” he asked dryly. “We’ll sit in the truck with a box of doughnuts and stare through our binoculars?”
“Disappointed?”
Yes, I’d been looking forward to throwing a few punches at the man who hurt you. I wanted to kick his ass for not understanding that one simple fucking word—‘no.’ And I’d hoped he’d give me a reason to break his damn nose for sending you into hiding.
“Nah, I didn’t want to spend our fourth date in jail. I was hoping to finish my Magic Mike dance. It might get awkward if we’re sharing a holding cell with the local drunks. Plus, I agreed to let you pick the spot.”
“I had something in mind.” She withdrew another powdered pastry from the box. “Of course now I need to find a golden lasso. And that might prove challenging.”
“Did I forget to mention my number one rule?” He shifted in his seat as his lower half took a sincere interest in the conversation that had, thank freaking goodness, moved away from Dustin the Asshole. Talking about boots and superhero sex toys turned him on instead of leaving him it
ching for a fight.
But the chances of making love to Caroline tonight, after she saw once and for all that her past was sitting on his ass in Bumblefuck, California, might be slim. He should probably resign himself to a long drive with a hard-on for company.
“What rule?” she asked.
“No bondage until the sixth date.” He added a hint of mock regret to his voice. “And I know you’re a stickler for the dating rules.”
“I am.”
She sounded so damn serious that he took his eyes off the highway for a second to make sure she was smiling. But her full lips and big green eyes didn’t give anything away.
“So I should probably ask if you have any restrictions on black lace on the fourth date,” she said. “You see, I ordered this pair of panties online back when I first asked you out.”
His grip tightened on the wheel. Make that two of them who’d had enough talk about the effects of her past.
“You’re wearing them now?” he demanded.
“Yes.”
Blood rushed south. He never let desire rule him. Not with Caroline. But damn it, he felt primed to explode. He wanted to touch her, kiss her, and make her his right here on the highway just from thinking about her underwear.
He couldn’t. But that didn’t stop him from hitting the brake and steering onto the shoulder. He threw the truck in park and turned to her. “Are you playing some sort of game designed—”
“No games.” Her fingers reached for the button at the top of her cargo pants. She lowered the zipper an inch and slipped her right hand inside. He followed her movements.
Don’t tell me we waited a year and now we’re going to lose control and play show-and-tell on the side of the road.
He could refuse to join in. But as soon as she drew a thin strip of black lace into view, he decided to let her make the call.
“Do you like them?” she asked.
And how she managed the question without a hint of coy come-and-get-me in her voice . . . hell, he didn’t know and he didn’t care.
“Caroline, I fucking love your panties.”
And I’m falling in love with you.
He’d known it since Noah and Josie’s wedding. What he felt for her was so damn real and right. And yeah, it was part of why he’d followed her on a rescue mission road trip. Why he couldn’t risk another look at her underwear until he was damn sure she wanted him, not an escape from her fears. Just him—beneath her, inside her, on top of her, behind her . . .
