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RJ HELD HERhand to her stomach as we pulled away from the diner. “I can’t believe we had waffles twice in one day.” After bowling, we’d gone to a movie, some new superhero epic, and after our hands brushed a few times, lingering next to each other, she’d twined her fingers with mine, and I’d spent the rest of the movie lost in how good it felt when the pad of her thumb brushed my palm. Another round of waffles hadn’t dulled the way her hand in mine made my heart beat faster.
I grinned at her contented smile. “That gallon of syrup was pretty filling, then?”
Watching RJ Brooks drown her waffles in syrup had left me laughing harder than I could remember.
She pushed my shoulder gently. I could only assume the gentleness was because I was driving and she didn’t want to veer off the side of the road. “You’re right,” I said, glancing over. “Most people use half a container. I think that’s the recommended serving size.”
“Oh, thanks for the lecture, Mr. I-Need-Butter-In-Every-Waffle-Groove.”
“Who wants uneven butter distribution?”
She tipped her head back as she laughed, and I had to drag myeyes back to the road. “Who has ever even uttered the phrase ‘uneven butter distribution’ before?”
“I don’t know. I’m sure Ina Garten says it.”
It was too dark to confirm, but I was sure she’d raised an eyebrow. “You watchBarefoot Contessa?”
“Ruthie, you haven’t let me cook for you. If you had, you wouldn’t have to ask. I am a Food Network superfan.”
“You’re kidding me.”
“Hand to God.” I’d always loved to cook, and for a while, I’d had a lot of time to kill. “I’m good.”
“Lear, sometimes you surprise me,” she said, glancing out the window, her face in profile, the moonlight highlighting her soft features. “I like that about you.”
She’s beautiful.
She relaxed against the seat, taking in the slow-moving scenery and seeming not to focus on anything at all. I’d never seen her like that before. RJ fully at ease. She was at ease with me, and she had been like this all day.
I had the sudden urge to link our fingers again and hold her hand and feel the stroke of her soft fingertips against mine, but it was different somehow in a dark theater. Coughing, I shot my eyes back to the road, lest we crash while I admired RJ’s lips and fantasized about holding her damn hand. I shook my head, dismissing the thought. Instead, I rested my palm on her thigh. The thigh was both more and less intimate. It was more sexual than sweet, I hoped. “You liked it when I surprised you after that rehearsal a few weeks ago. My scalp is still healing from how hard you pulled my hair.”
“Your surprises are sometimes quite nice,” she admitted, voice soft.
I flicked my eyes toward her, and our gazes caught for an instant. That moment, though only a second or two, felt interminable, and I had to force my eyes back to the road as we neared city limits and traffic increased.
“I had fun today,” she said.
“Me, too. Maybe we should just stay away from love and matrimony,” I said, going for a joke, but it fell flat.
A distant smile crossed her lips. “Probably.”
We fell into a silence, relying on the sounds of the road and the music from my car speakers as background noise. When I pulled into the parking lot at her apartment complex, I cut the engine.
“I won at bowling. I hope you’re not still waiting for me to seduce you,” she said as I reached for the door handle.
“Yes, you’ve mentioned that you won a time or seven. It’s late. I’ll walk you to the door.” I didn’t wait for her to protest. Instead, I hurried to her side of the car, and we walked together toward the building, slowing as we reached the sidewalk leading to the main door. “Thank you,” I said, breaking the silence. “For today. I didn’t know I needed that, and it really took my mind off... Anyway, thank you.”
She looked up at me, those pretty coffee-colored eyes meeting mine. “It wasn’t anything.” When we both stopped walking, I rested my hand at her waist when she didn’t step back.
“It was.” Our gazes remained locked, the light breeze swirling around us. “You’re...”Everything. Amazing. The woman I want to be with. The person who makes me feel like I’m finally reaching the surface.
RJ’s hand slid up my body, resting over my heart. The light weight of her touch, the warmth through my shirt, had me leaning my chin to hers.
“Lear,” she murmured, the sound intoxicating and filled with question marks. RJ never spoke with question marks in her tone. This was unfamiliar territory.
“Yeah?” I inched closer to her face, our breaths mingling. She smelled different from normal—not like the perfumed, made-up version of RJ that I knew from the weddings. Whatever product wasin her hair smelled faintly floral, and my hand tightened at her waist. “What is it?”
RJ bit her lower lip and lowered her gaze, pausing before she said in a voice just above a whisper, “Do you want to come upstairs? Stay the night?”
