AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Perky thinks I have a purple eggplant in my pants?”
“No!”
“Because we’ve never dated. I don’t think we’ve even hugged. No way she knows about the purple tuber in my boxer briefs.”
“You wear boxer briefs?”
“You’d rather talk about my underwear than my grotesquely huge, extremely thick –”
I kiss him. His arms wrap around me, the crinkle of a paper bag crushed against my back stealing a tiny sliver of my attention away from the taste of Will. My nose picks up the scent of chocolate, his cologne overriding it as my cheek rubs against his.
“If you think kissing me to get me to stop talking about your eggplant fantasies is going to work, you’re right.” He snuggles in, forehead to forehead.
Inspiration strikes. “Remember that promise you said you’d give me?”
“Promise?”
“Promise we’ll never speak of the eggplant again.”
He looks down at his package. “I… can’t make that promise. It likes to speak its own language.”
I swoon a little.
“Well, then, how about we just don’t talk about it now?”
“Deal.” I stand on tiptoes and kiss him lightly. The eggplant stays quiet.
“Now that is a much better way to invite me in,” he says, stepping across the threshold into the living room. “I brought dessert.”
“You brought brownies?”
He holds up a small white paper bag. “How did you guess?”
“I can smell.”
“And a pint of ice cream and some sauces.” He also has a plastic grocery bag. Walking into my apartment like he already lives here, he puts the ice cream in the freezer, takes out a small box of baked goods, and folds the bag, setting it next to my coffee maker.
“Why? I–I made dessert already. Pots de crème.”
Will comes back to me, reaching for an embrace. “Because,” he says, kissing me on the cheek, lips so tempting in my ear, “I want to be clear: I’m a sure thing when it comes to dessert, Mallory. This date doesn’t end before that. You told me you never make it to dessert. I’m here to break that streak.”
I laugh. “You’re not some guy I met online and we’re not on a first date. We’ve had dessert numerous times now.”
“No. Third date.”
He lets the words hang in the air. I know exactly what he means. Damn that Perky.
“Third date give or take ten to fourteen years,” I venture.
His turn to laugh. “Excellent point.”
“Good. Because I’m a sure thing, too.”
“Then how about we add breakfast to the food lineup?” Self-assurance radiates from him. It’s a huge turn-on.
“You want to spend the night?”
“And the morning.”
