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And we go back and forth like that until both plates are empty.
“So, why do you think we get bored?” I suddenly ask, because I’m suddenly curious.
Her cheeks grow rosy and her neck flushes with red spots. “I don’t know,” she says quietly.
“You’re lying,” I tell her. “I know you, Evie Allen, and I know when you’re lying.” I bump her foot with mine under the table. “So spill it. Why do you get bored?”
She looks out the window for a moment. And then she says very quietly, “I guess… I don’t know.” She rubs her hand against her forehead and says, her voice clear but soft, “I guess I just never have as much fun in a relationship as I do fighting with you.”
I freeze as the words she’s saying slide straight down my spine to my dick. “Holy fuck,” I breathe, as pure lust shoots through my veins. I have never been quite as turned-on as I am in that moment.
“What?” she asks. Her brow furrows, and she leans a little toward me.
“Nothing,” I say, and I motion for the check. The waitress brings it and waits for my credit card, which I hand over without even looking at the bill. “We should get to the lake. Mr. Jacobson is going to call the cops on us and get us arrested for defacing his building if we don’t show up.” I drink the last of my drink and wipe the ring on my upper lip away with the back of my hand.
“What’s wrong with you?” she asks me. “Did I say the wrong thing?”
“Nope.” She just rocked my entire world and she has no idea she did it.
She has more fun fighting with me than she’s ever had in a relationship? That sinks deep inside me, mainly because I feel exactly the same way. No other woman has ever been enough, mainly because even when I was seeing someone seriously, I still looked for Evie every time she came to town. I still wanted to be around her, even when she sniped at me the whole time, because I had more fun fighting with her than I ever did dating anyone else.
That’s the God’s honest truth. I’ve just never had anybody put it into words for me.
“Grady!” she calls as she follows me out of the restaurant. “What’s wrong with you?” She stomps to the Jeep and stares at me, her bag hanging over her shoulder.
“You!” I say and point my finger at her. “You are what’s wrong with me, Evie Allen. You’ve been what’s wrong with me for almost twenty-five years!” I jerk my thumb toward the Jeep. “Get in.”
“Fuck you,” she replies.
“Get in, Clifford.”
“Fuck you, Grady,” she repeats. “I’m not getting in the Jeep until you tell me why you’re being so fucking weird!” She stomps her foot.
I lean over the hood, my arms braced on the metal. “Clifford, if you don’t get in the truck, I’m going to come over there and put you in it.” I stare at her. Hard.
I know I’m in trouble when her eyes narrow. “I’d love to see you try,” she says.
I walk slowly around the truck, trying to stay casual. I get close to her, and she steps back, until she’s standing with her back against the Jeep. “What are you doing?” she asks warily, her eyes skipping around my face like she’s watching a ping pong match.
I lean down really quickly and kiss her cheek, lingering long enough for it to be inappropriate. “I love fighting with you,” I admit.
“What?” she breathes out quietly. Her voice has a tiny quiver in it. If she turns her head, even the slightest little bit, I could kiss her. Instead, I stand there and breathe her in. She shoves my chest. “Grady, quit it.”
“I’m not kidding, Evie,” I say. She’s startled a little when I use her real name instead of Clifford. “I love fighting with you. I love being around you. And these feelings I have always felt for you scare me to death. I never knew exactly what it was that made being around you so weird, but then you hit the nail on the head when you said you like fighting with me more than you ever liked being in any relationship. And I’m still trying to process all of this in my head, so I’d appreciate it if you’d get in the fucking truck and let’s go to the lake so we can finish up the maze. Okay?”
“Okay,” she says quietly.
“Okay,” I reply.
I step back and open the Jeep door. She scrambles in and sets her bag next to her feet. I see her lay her fingertips against the place where I’d kissed her cheek as I open my door.
“You all right?” I ask her. I desperately need for her to be all right.
“Give me a few minutes to think about it, and then ask me again, okay?” she says, a little breathless.
“Sure thing,” I reply. I can’t hold back my grin as I shift the Jeep into gear and back out of the parking spot.
I’d be happy to give her all the time in the world.
