“It seems like such a simple thing,” I murmur, “holding hands. But it feels really big.”
“I know,” he says, flipping my hand over and running his fingers along the lines of my palm. “I’ve wanted to touch you forever. But it felt like a line I shouldn’t cross.”
“Because you’re my boss?”
“Mostly.”
“Because you are, but you also aren’t. I answer to Ransom and nobody else.”
His lips quirk. “We answer to you is more like it. You know you’re in charge.”
“Maybe,” I tease. But there’s a lot of truth to what he’s saying. Ransom rarely asks me to do anything. I’m usually operating like the other half of his brain, doing things before he even needs to ask.
“I wouldn’t have minded, you know. I was looking for any scrap of attention from you. Pathetically, I hoped you would touch me.”
He scowls, leaning in, tightening his grip on my hand. “Not pathetic. There are so many things about you I admire, Cara. How strong you are. How smart. How open you are about how you feel. I’ve never been that open with anyone.”
“It’s not always an easy thing. Doesn’t feel good sometimes,” I admit softly.
His mouth twists. “Yeah.” I can almost see him running through the last few years, thinking of all the times he turned me away. Ran from me. Made me feel like he wasn’t interested, only to reel me back in with a hint of attention the next time I came around.
“I’ve only had three girlfriends,” he blurts, sneaking looks at me.
“You’re expecting what from me? For me to look shocked? You ran away from me more than once. I kinda figured you weren’t a ladies’ man. Besides, you told me about the kinds of women you date.”
He shifts uncomfortably. “Right. Yeah. It’s just...now that we’re officially on our second date, I thought maybe we could do the relationship chat.”
“The relationship chat. Is there something specific you want to know?”
“I get the feeling that you’re a little more experienced than I am.”
“Probably,” I say cautiously. I’m not sure where he’s going with this.
“And my girlfriends were my friends first. We hung out for a while before we eventually decided we were a couple. We didn’t date or anything...not officially.”
“Ok.”
“So, I guess I was wondering,” he wiggles in his seat, “when can I start rounding the bases? I’m not entirely sure what’s first and what’s second. I missed most of that crap in high school.”
Giggling, I drop my head onto the table. “Oh, my god. You want a feel. You’re such an idiot.”
“No, but seriously. Is there like, a rule? Like, three dates, and I get under the shirt?” He’s trying to hide his smile, but he’s doing a crap job of it.
“No,” I say through my giggles, loving his teasing. “You get under the shirt when I’m ready. Not before.”
He smiles. “Ok.”
The waitress swings by with glasses of water, ready to take our drink order. “Supper’s a stew tonight. It’ll stick to your ribs.” My mouth is already watering. She rushes off, swinging back with our beers before disappearing into the kitchen. Declan’s eyes are glazed over, and I think I see a little line of drool right there in the corner of his mouth.
“Why don’t you hire a chef, for fuck’s sake? You obviously love to eat.”
He wipes his mouth with his hand, shaking his head. “I don’t know. It just seemed ridiculous, you know? I’m a single guy. Why should I have someone come in and cook my meals?”
“You guys could have gotten someone for the building. They could have come in and cooked for all of you.”
His eyes widen, and I laugh. Clearly, that didn’t occur to him or anyone else.
“You guys are so weird. It took me a while to figure you all out. Well,” I say, “I thought I had you all figured out.”
