Page 51 of A Really Bad Idea

“Only for you.”

“What do you have in mind?” I ask.

He leans his shoulder into the wall and crosses his arms. “I’ve thought this through.”

“And ideas?” I prod, waiting for him to tell me.

He smiles. “I’ve come up with a few.”

“Are you going to keep rhyming?”

“On cue.”

“Christian,” I scold.

“We won’t break curfew.” He’s being cheeky.

I drop my shoulders. “You’re just being ridiculous now.”

“Let’s go to the zoo.”

With the step of my foot, I say, “Seriously—”

“I am being serious. Let’s go to the zoo. You free on Sunday?” His question is casually asked, but he’s serious. Christian is asking me on a date to the zoo.

I straighten my shoulders and consider his proposal. “I am.”

He pushes off the wall and taps me on the nose. “Great. It’s a date.”

“A date.” I nod.

He takes a step forward, his chest close enough that I can feel the heat searing off him. There’s something unspoken in his eyes, but his voice is loud and clear when he says, “Do you remember what I said happens on date two?”

I swallow. My memory is sharp when it comes to all things Christian Gallagher. “I do.”

He leans forward, his mouth close to my ear as he whispers, “Date two.”

I let out a gasp and utter, “With you.”

His hand snakes along my waist as he adds, “When we’re through—”

“Good-bye, Dr. Gallagher.” I spin around and head into room nine before he can finish his ridiculous rhyme. I close the door just in time to hear his deep chuckle behind the door.

My entire body is vibrating as it rolls over the bumpy pavers that line the Mall of Bethesda Terrace. We pass through the elegant archways and staircases as I pray I don’t fall on my ass.

When Christian arrived at my apartment this morning for date number two, I wasn’t expecting to see a shopping bag in his hand. Especially since it was holding in-line skates.

“Rollerblading?” I asked with a raised brow, my coffee not consumed to the maximum it would need to be going on a rollerblading adventure.

“You loved it when we were kids.” He smirked, pushing through my front door, his hair covered by a navy-blue Yankees cap.

“I was twelve,” I said, closing the door behind him as he makes himself comfortable on my green chenille sofa.

He grabbed my romance novel off the coffee table, and his brows rose when he read a few lines of the page it was open to.

“I thought we were going to the zoo?”

“We are. Grab a pair of comfortable socks.”