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“And after?” I whisper.
His mouth twitches. “With your permission, I’m gonna kiss you goodnight and watch as you walk inside your place.”
“And after that?” I push, more turned on than I’ve ever been in my entire life. I can’t help it. The foreplay we just experienced will be tattooed onto my memory for the rest of my measly existence. And since he’s asked me out, I want to know where we go from here and if it involves his dick between my thighs again.
He bends closer, his mouth tickling against the shell of my ear. “I’m gonna jerk off to the memory of how good you felt against me, praying one day you’ll like me enough to want the same thing. I want you, Kate. Physically, emotionally, intellectually. Sound okay to you, my prickly little porcupine?”
He wants me.
Physically. Emotionally. Intellectually.
I gulp and nod, realizing I haven’t answered him.
His chuckle is low and husky as he pulls away. “Good. See you Friday. Seven sound good?”
“Sure,” I squeak.
He grins. “Perfect. Wear something that looks good with cowgirl boots.”
Without another word, he walks away.
24
MACKLIN
When I told Kate to wear something that looks good with cowgirl boots, I’d been kidding. But the girl outdid herself. I take in her white lacy top and brown leggings tucked into ankle boots, blown away she actually agreed to go out with me.
We drive to Rowdy’s, chatting about random shit. When we arrive, I put the car in park and lead her to the front of the rough brick building. I’d debated on whether or not to bring Kate here for our first date, but honestly? I think she’s gonna love it.
Being on a first date again is strange. I’ve dabbled with dating since my divorce but never found someone I was really interested in. Kate, though? Kate’s been different from the beginning. Even now, standing beside me, I’m not sure what I should do about it. And considering our age difference? Fuck. I don’t know. She doesn’t want the same things I want. At least, I don’t think she does. Then again, she isn’t like other girls. She’s kind and sweet and mature. She doesn’t want to party. Doesn’t want to waste her college years. She’s hardworking. Gorgeous. Driven.
Stop overthinking shit, I remind myself, glancing at her again. But I don’t know what to say.
When she catches me staring, she runs her hands along the white lace of her top, her nerves buzzing off her pale skin, seeping into the air around us.
“Do I stick out like a sore thumb?” she asks.
“Not at all.”
“You sure?”
“You look gorgeous, Kate.”
She peeks at me again. “Maybe if you convince me I don’t suck at being a country girl, I might even invest in a pair of cowgirl boots.”
I smile and grab her hand, guiding her into the building. It’s surreal being here. The low lights. The country music. The massive dance floor and peanut shells beneath our feet.
My buddy stops short when he sees me at the entrance and squints his eyes. “Mack?”
“Hey, Rowdy––”
“Macklin!” he returns, his grin widening. He pulls me into a hug and slaps his hand against my back.
I return the gesture, and when I pull away from him, he asks, “How you been, man? It’s been a while.”
“Uh, I’ve been good,” I answer. Remembering my manners, I grab Kate’s hand again and tug her closer to me. “This is Kate.”
His eyes widen as he takes her in and offers his hand for her to shake. “Hey, Kate. I’m Rowdy. I went to high school with our boy, Macklin.”
