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We walk to the curb, holding hands and staring at each other like dummies for who knows how long. Finally, I turn over her hand and trace my fingers over the inside of her wrist.
She shivers, and her lashes flutter. “S-so, what were you going to have us do on our first date when you first asked me out last month?”
I laugh. “I was going to take you fishing, but…” I gaze over her wool skirt and heels. “That won’t work in this outfit. Do you want a bite to eat?”
Charlotte grimaces. “I already ate lunch, sorry. But I don’t mind going home to change clothes. I’ve never been fishing before; it might be fun!”
Now she’s just being overly kind, and that’s not the Charlotte I know. She asks for what she wants; I don’t want that to change.
I shake my head. “I have a better idea.”
CHAPTERFOUR
Charlotte
I might already fall in love with Harley when he says my motto, unprompted.
“There’s always room for ice cream.”
Swoon.
Harley treats me to a sundae from the gourmet ice cream truck parked on the square, and we have our date in the gazebo. Danny, Izzy, and their kids pack up and vacate soon after, and then we’re alone—me with my peach cobbler with real chunks of cake and brown sugar swirls and Harley with his mint chip.
I feel so guilty about lying to him. “I’ve been a little selfish and taken up a lot of your time with my little charade. I’m sorry about that.”
“Don’t ever be sorry for taking up my time.”
Something cold and wet drips down my hand, and I move to lick it off, but Harley beats me to it. His full lips sweep over my fingers, and I feel his tongue dart out to lick the ice cream off my knuckles.
It’s such a surprising and intimate move that I freeze, frozen in space, my mind and body reeling at the sensation of it. The touch of his warm tongue on the coldness of my hand makes me clench.
“What are you staring at, Charlotte? You better eat that before I have to lick all of it off you.”
I laugh, but my throat is dry. I don’t need ice cream; I need a cold shower. Instead, I take a huge sip from my water bottle.
“Sorry, you caught me off guard,” I say, then turn my focus on the ice cream, devouring my feelings.
After a few minutes of eating my feelings and listening to Harley talk, I feel his eyes on me.
“Do I have something on my face? Why are you staring at me like that?”
He shrugs. “Because I’m enjoying watching you put away that peach cobbler ice cream.”
“You want some?” I ask, holding out what’s left of my cone.
“I do,” he says, leaning in.
But he’s not aiming for the ice cream cone.
Instead, his lips land on mine in a kiss that’s warm and cold and sweet and salty all at once.
“Yum,” he says, chuckling when he pulls away from the kiss.
“Very yum,” I say, like an idiot.
He chuckles, then leans in for another kiss, this one warmer and deeper, his lips lingering over mine as he traces the tip of his tongue over the seam of my lips.
I open to him and let him have a taste. Harley’s tongue sweeps into my mouth and caresses my tongue, creating a mess of emotions.
