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That, or Drake was actually Superman.
I stepped up to the window at Romano’s. It was just a little-hole-in-the-wall type of place. You ordered from the street, and when you had your pizza, you found a park bench, or a curb, or something else to sit on to enjoy it. “Peperoni times two, Roman!”
I dug around in my bag and pulled out a ten, slipping it across the counter.
“Two!” He laughed, throwing it in the register before disappearing for a few seconds and appearing again with two paper plates each carrying a slice of pizza that hung over the edges. “Hungry tonight, Cassie?”
I grinned. I swear I did it every single time I heard him shorten my name to Cassie. His thick Boston accent was sprinkled with just a little Italian flair.
It almost made me like my name a little more.
I took the pizza and nodded to Drake, standing a little off to the side. “A date,” I corrected, letting out a loud laugh when his eyes grew wide, and he called out to his wife who helped in the kitchen.
“Carla! Cassie’s on a date!”
She appeared a moment later, both of them eyeing Drake out the small window.
I swear I actually saw his cheeks flush.
“Oh, he’scute,” Clara gushed with a wink before jabbing her clawed talon out the small window. “You treat this girl well, mister.”
“I will.” Drake smiled, and the butterflies went absolutely crazy.
We shuffled with our pizza down the quiet street, the lights just flicking on over us as darkness began to take over the little bit of light left of the evening.
“You grew up here?” Drake asked when we finally stopped at a bench and took a seat. He placed the paper plate in his lap, lifted the pizza and folded it in half before taking a bite out of the pointy end.
“Great technique,” I praised, doing the same.
He winked. “Not my first time.”
I leaned back into the park bench. “Yeah. Moved away for a few years, but definitely born and bred. What about you?”
“Las Vegas,” he answered after swallowing another bite. “Lived in the same place since I was about ten.”
I frowned. “You still live there?”
He nodded but didn’t offer an explanation.
Maybe that was for another time.
Or maybe I’d never know, depending on how this night was going to end.
We ate the rest of our pizza in comfortable silence. Sometimes it can feel awkward when you meet someone new, and the conversation falls off. That’s when I usually start to get nervous and ramble, talk about nothing and everything all at once, which could scare people off. But neither of us seemed to feel like we needed to fill the air with chatter or noise.
It was easy.
So easy, I wondered if I should be frightened.
“You spend a lot of time picking up random guys in old English pubs?” he finally asked when his plate was empty. He placed it on the ground beside his feet and leaned back, his body turned just slightly toward mine.
“No, you sir, are the first fake future husband I’ve ever had.” I folded up my empty plate and shot for the trash bin a couple of feet away. It went straight in without a bounce, and he coughed out a laugh. I turned my body toward his and smiled. “What?”
“I was thinking this whole fucking time we were sitting here about making up some corny shit about you having something on your lip so I could kiss you, but then I realized I could just do this.” His fingers hooked around my neck, gently pulling me in until our lips met. I leaned in closer, searching for more, but he was determined to keep the kiss slow and torturous, his tongue skimming lightly over my bottom lip, teasing me for a second before pulling away.
My body was electric.
One of his hands stayed on my face while the other started at my knee, moving up my thigh, his thumb brushing just inside the bottom of my shorts’ leg, so fucking close to my panty line that it made me suck in a sharp breath.
