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As much as my dating life has sucked in the past, I’m glad for it. It’s taught me to respect myself and taught me I don’t need a man to complete me—a good man is simply a bonus. Hollis is the best of the best, which still shocks me, but he’s definitely one of the good ones.
I reach over and brush an errant curl from his eyes. “I love you even if you steal my fries.”
He cracks a grin. “Is that so?” His fingers creep toward the hoard of fries I’ve taken.
I slam my hand down on his.
“Don’t test me,” I warn him.
“See, your mouth said one thing, but you really meant you love fries more than me.”
“Not possible—but a tie maybe,” I relent.
He smiles.
A while later the game ends, I win of course, and we decide to head out.
Hollis follows me to my Audi and watching him contort his large frame in my small car is more than amusing.
I open the driver’s door to hear him cursing as his head brushes the top.
“How you can stand this clown car is beyond me,” he grumbles, pulling the seatbelt across his torso.
“It’s not a clown car, you’re just large.”
As soon as the words leave my mouth I instantly regret them. My mouth makes a firm line, waiting for his remark.
“I can’t help it if I’m very well endowed, Mia, thank you for noticing.”
“I hate you,” I growl, putting the gearshift in drive.
“Nah.” He leans over, gliding his hand along my jean-clad thigh—thank God for winter and the necessity of jeans. “You love me and my dirty mouth and…” his voice lowers and he comes even closer until his mouth is pressed right against my ear. “You love every dirty little thing I do to you.”
He’s right, of course. “That may be true,” I relent, “but it doesn’t mean I still don’t want to punch you in the nuts right now.”
He grins from ear to ear. “But you won’t.”
I glance at him with narrowed eyes. “Don’t test me, Wilder.”
He chuckles and I pull out from the bowling alley parking lot.
“I’m not ready to go home,” I confess.
“Me either,” he admits quietly.
“Let’s walk around Old Town for a little while,” I suggest.
“It’s cold,” he protests.
“I’ll buy you a hot chocolate,” I sing-song.
“Well … when you offer hot chocolate how can I say no?”
“You can’t, it’s that simple.” I shrug.
The drive is short and I park on the side of the street near the entrance to the walking mall. I could park at my apartment and we could walk from there, but it’s cold, and I don’t want to.
Hollis hops out, change already in hand to put into the meter.
