Page 96 of Put a Rink on It

“Been on a date.” She keeps her voice neutral, which does nothing to help me decide how she feels about this.

If it’s even true.

I wrack my brain to come up with anything we’ve done that would classify as a date but come up empty. “I’m guessing skating doesn’t count?”

“No.”

“We’ve had movie nights. I’ve taken you to hockey games,” I try, grasping at straws.

“Where you were on the ice and I was in the stands,” she points out.

“I’ve taken you to eat at restaurants.”

“We’ve shared meals at dining establishments. You can keep trying, but you won’t win this one.”

“I’m not trying to win,” I mutter, running a frustrated hand through my hair. “Wait.” Something she said a few months ago spurs a thought. I snap my fingers when the thought lands. “The coffee shop after I confessed what I did. I distinctly said it was a date."

The stool squeaks across the floor, and Marina joins me on the other side of the counter. “Hmm.” Her head tilts side-to-side, calculating her options. “I suppose you’re technically right. With everything else, I forgot. So I guess this is our second date.”

“Tell me more.”

“I got steaks, wine, and fixings for an ice cream sundae bar. Is there a grill in this place? And if so, do you know how to use it?”

“Yes and yes.”

She claps her hands, her joy palpable, and my mood pivots. “Super. You’re in charge of the steaks. Fire it up around five-thirty and stay out of the living room.”

“The lady piques my interest. What else?”

“Dress casually, but fancier than a T-shirt and sweatpants.” She runs her finger along my stubbled jaw, the touch soft and arousing. “This stays. Backward hat optional.”

“Noted.”

She snaps her fingers. “Bring a notebook and pen. Oh, and your calendar. We’re setting a date for the wedding.” She lifts onto tiptoes to reach my cheek, her lips brushing against it. “Even though it’s a second date, if all goes according to plan, I’ll put out later. ‘Cause I’m that kind of fiancée.” She falls to flat feet and darts out of my reach, gathering up her books and things.

“A tease is what you are. Where are you going?”

“Gotta take a phone call in the new office. Grill goes on at five-thirty to cook the steaks. I’ll take care of the rest. See ya, Champ.” With her things pressed against her stomach, she leaves the kitchen walking backward, her wink the last thing I see before she disappears.

“Tease,” I call out after her, adjusting my cock.

At six on the dot, Marina appears on the back porch where the grill is. The steaks are nearly done. One last flip should do it. She’s changed into a purple sweater and black pants, her hair in two braids starting at the top of her head. A minimal layer of makeup highlights her natural beauty, and if I wasn’t wearing an apron with steak juice on it or holding tongs, I’d pull her into me.

Probably do more than that.

“How much longer on the steaks?”

“Four minutes.”

“I left plates in the kitchen. Red or white wine?”

“Red.”

She smiles as if that’s the answer she was looking for. “That’s what I wanted, too.”

I contemplate her statement. “Do you drink white wine? I can’t recall.”

“Not if I can help it. Once you plate the steaks, meet me in the living room. I’ve got the rest.” With a finger wave, she disappears through the sliding door, and my eyes glue to her ass. She’s sexy as hell.