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I take another swallow of water and glance at the entrance again, waiting for her.
And like my wanting summoned her, she appears through the crowd.
Good thing I already swallowed my drink, because the sight of Paige causes my throat to constrict.
So far, I’ve mainly seen her in baggy sweatpants and tank tops. Of course, there was that amazing time when she took her shirt off in front of me. The image is firmly saved in the back of my brain.
Tonight though, Paige isn’t dressed for running or dog training.
A dark pair of jeans hugs her legs tight, revealing a round ass and toned thighs. The pants would probably take some time to peel off her, but I’d be up for the challenge.
She has on a flowing white top that’s short enough to show flashes of her smooth stomach. The sleeves hang off her shoulders. For the life of me, I have no idea how the thing even stays up on her. I wonder if I give the bottom a light tug, would the fabric slide low enough for her nipples to pop free?
I can image gripping her waist, pressing her back against the bar, and leaning down to feast on them. Would they be light pink? Or maybe slightly purple, like a plum. I bet if I sucked on them long enough, they’d turn as red as strawberries.
And if I did it right, I might get to hear her sexy noises.
Would she gasp? Moan? Whisper dirty things in my ear?
“Do you think this place has nachos?”
Apparently, our minds are on different tracks.
Paige asks her question as she slides onto the stool next to me.
“Hello to you, too.” I suppress my inappropriate thoughts and fight the smile that threatens as her eyes go wide. A blush chases over her cheeks.
“Hell. That was rude. Sometimes when I’m hungry, I forget proper social conventions.” Paige’s lips twist before she sighs. “That’s not true. I struggle with proper social conventions even on a full stomach. So, um…” She glances at me, clearly uncertain, then stands back up from her stool.
When Paige leans forward to wrap me in a light hug, I sit frozen. She’s soft and smells of coffee, and she retreats too soon.
“Hi, Dash. Good to see you, again. Thank you for inviting me out.” Her greeting comes out stiff, and even though I’m still absorbing the fucking amazing sensation of her body pressed against mine, I have to admit I liked her nacho opening better.
It was more honest. More Paige. Something she’d say to a friend.
“You’re welcome. I don’t know about the nachos. We can ask. You want anything to drink?”
After I flag down the bartender, we find out they do have a menu, and it does include nachos. Paige orders an Abita on tap, and I watch her drink the amber liquid with envy. Both because I miss the taste of beer, but also because I’m jealous of the glass for getting a chance to kiss her mouth.
“You don’t drink?” She reaches over to flick my water glass.
“Parole.”
I brace myself for her reaction, guessing she’s found a way to temporarily forget my criminal past to spend time with me.
Instead, Paige only nods before gripping my arm in excitement and changing the subject.
“I took Pumpkin running with me this morning! She did so well! Except for this one incident with a squirrel, but those fuzzy little critters practically beg to get chased, so I can’t blame her for it.”
Dogs are safe talking territory. I latch onto the subject.
By the time the nachos arrive, I’ve gotten Paige to tell me everything she wants Pumpkin to learn to do. It all sounds relatively basic. Material that could be covered in a handful of lessons. Not something that would keep me around long term.
“Have you considered agility training?” I throw out.
“Agility?”
“Yeah. It’s like an obstacle course for dogs. But you guide them through it. There are competitions, but a lot of people do it for fun. And it’s good for the dog. Teaches them better discipline. Gets their minds thinking about complex tasks. I could teach you and Pumpkin.”
