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He steps further in the room, not stopping until he’s right in front of me.
“Hey, Gypsy,” he murmurs, dipping his head low and presses his lips against mine. Zings of awareness spark through my limbs at both the kiss and him calling me Gypsy. You don’t take the time to come up with a nickname for someone unless you care for them, meaning I’m not the only one who feels this thing building between us. I just seem to be the only one trying to fight it.
“Hi,” I whisper when he pulls away.
His smile only tips up one corner of his mouth, but it’s still one of the sexiest smiles I’ve ever seen.
You’re in serious trouble, Eden, my mind whispers unnecessarily.
Yeah, no shit, I inwardly snark back to myself.
“You ready?” JW asks, and I nod.
Judge comes out of his office just as we get to the door. His eyes slide to our clasped hands before lifting them to JW, his face blank. “I’ve got an early morning meeting tomorrow I need to attend to. I’m dropping Jenny off at Trouble’s since his appointments don’t start until after lunch.”
“Eden will stay with me tonight, so you don’t have to worry about her.”
I jerk my eyes to JW. Did he really just say what I think he did. That’s a whole lot of assumption on his part. I narrow my eyes at him, willing him to look at me. He doesn’t, even though I have a death grip on his hand. I decide to broach the subject when we leave and not in front of his friends.
Judge gives JW a tight nod, and we turn to leave. I ignore the ridiculously huge smile on Jenny’s face.
“See you tomorrow,” she says, all too happily. When we pass by her, she tacks on in a low voice only for me to hear, “Have fun.”
I give her a stern look, but it loses it’s muster when my lips twitch. No one in their right mind could stay annoyed with a person like Jenny. She’s too friendly and bubbly.
Once we’re seated in JW’s truck on our way, I look over at him. “That was pretty presumptuous of you, wasn’t it?”
He smiles devilishly. “I like to call it confident.”
“In my book it’s called conceited,” I retort.
He chuckles and reaches over the middle console for my hand. His laughter dies away and his expression turns serious. He kisses the back of my hand.
“I have a spare bedroom if that’s where you want to stay.” He turns his head partially my way. I can’t see his eyes from the sunglasses he’s wearing, but I know the blue orbs are no longer a baby blue, but a stormy grey. “There’s no pressure for anything more than dinner. As much as I’d love to fuck you into tomorrow, I’m not into forcing or coaxing.” His jaw bunches before he continues. “I want you completely willing and as hot for it as I am. I figured since you’ll be at my place anyway, and with Judge having an early meeting, you could just crash there.”
“Okay,” I say quietly. I keep my eyes trained out the windshield, even though I feel his surprised gaze on me at my easy acceptance. I’m no push over, and I certainly won’t be bullied or persuaded into doing something I don’t want to do. I accept his invitation because I want to. JW, for some unknown reason, makes me feel safe. Like he won’t let anything or anyone touch me without my permission. Maybe it’s because of the badge he wears, or maybe it’s because I’ve seen the hatred on his face any time what Diego did to me and that other woman is brought up.
We turn silent after that, and I take in more of the town. It’s small, with shops, businesses, and houses clustered throughout the mile or so that makes up the town. When I rode into town that first day, I noticed more houses lining the outskirts of the town limits.
We take a left down a dirt road with a thick line of trees on both sides. I expect to see a house up ahead, so I’m surprised when the trees clear and it’s a lake that we pull to a stop in front of. Looking around, there are no buildings in sight, only the water and a dock up ahead.
Before I can question JW on why we’re here, he’s already out of the truck and walking around to my side. He pulls my door open and reaches toward me with his hand.
“Why are we here? I thought we were going to your house?” I ask and grab his hand for him to help me out of the truck.
“We are.” He lets me go and walks to the bed of the truck, pulling the tailgate down. He hands me a thick blanket. “We’re having dinner here first.” He winks. “A picnic. On the dock.” With that, he grabs a basket by the handle, snags my hand, and proceeds to pull me toward the dock.
“Why?” I ask dumbly.
He glances at me over his shoulder. “Because it’s nice outside.”
“Try again,” I snort.
“Because it’s romantic,” he replies with laughter in his voice.
“You don’t seem like you’re much of the romantic type.”
We reach the dock, and I watch as we pass by bed after bed of colorful flowers lining the edges in long planter boxes.
