“We should go,” he says quietly, the words lacking conviction as his chest heaves.
“Are you sure?”
“Maybe?”
A laugh rumbles through my chest. “Tell me what you want, Sweetheart.” I don’t mean for the endearment to slip out like that, and I hold my breath as Tanner’s eyes widen.
The seconds that pass feel like a lifetime, and I hate that I can’t figure out what’s going on in his head. Does he like it? Does he wish I hadn’t said it?
Dammit.
“I think we should go.” He doesn’t move away when he says the words. Instead he searches my face as if he’s looking for confirmation that he’s making the right choice.
“Anything you want.”
“I want to go out with you.”
Music to my ears.
20
TANNER
Deacon bats my hand away when I reach for the doorhandle of his truck, causing me to snort at the ridiculousness of it.
No one has ever opened a car door for me; that was always my job.
I don’t know if I like it or not, and I can tell Deacon is amused by the way he can’t quite wipe the smile from his face as he drives us to the Brew, Q, ’n Boogie. It’s a local hangout in Blackstone Falls that’s owned and run by Jake Booker. He and his wife, Cheyenne, are always with the Thayers, so I know them about as well as anyone else.
Jake let Sorren and me host an adoption event a couple of years ago, and I make a mental note to ask Sorren if we should try to do it again. The space is basically a wide-open field with an outdoor concert stage and plenty of room for food trucks, vendor tents, picnic blankets, chairs, and dancing.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been out here,” Deacon says as he parks his truck in the lot and kills the ignition.
“Jake’s done a lot since he got it up and running.”
“You come here often?” he asks, his tone impossible to read.
“Just when someone drags me out of the house.” When he lifts an eyebrow, I add, “Usually Otto or Case—not like a date.”
“Well,this,” he murmurs, gripping my chin, “isverymuch a date.” My breath hitches in my throat and I want him to kiss me again, the intensity and desire swirling in his eyes making it impossible to think of anything else.
But he doesn’t.
Instead he growls a pointeddon’t movebefore climbing out of the truck and rounding the hood to open my door. I don’t mind it so much now, not when he’s staring at me like he wants to devour me.
The thought is both terrifying and exhilarating, and my mind immediately flashes to us kissing in my kitchen.What would have happened if he hadn’t pulled away?
Part of me is thankful that we didn’t go any further, but the other is mourning the lack of release that would have happened if I asked for it.
Because hedefinitelywould have made me ask.
Deacon lingers before me, his gaze dropping to my lips before sighing and reaching for my hand. Belatedly, I hear the door shut as he leads us toward the crowd.
“Is this all right?” His fingers squeeze mine and I nod, liking the way it makes me feel claimed maybe for the first time since my divorce.
“I like it,” I admit and he rewards me with a suggestive curve of his lips that’s filled with a whole lot of promise I can’t even begin to unpack right now.
“I like it too.”
