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As the older woman stopped in front of us, she gave me a once-over, and if I wasn’t mistaken, spent a little too long on my midsection. With her brows raised, she focused on Rose.
“And who is this handsome young man, Rose Marie?”
At the same time I said my name, Rose practically shouted, “No one! Just a friend!”
Mrs. Pratter raised her brows higher, and a knowing smile appeared. “Just a friend named Bryson Robinson. Aren’t you a handsome thing.”
Jesus, I felt my cheeks blush.
“I was showing him around town. That’s all. Nothing more.”
Giving her a slight pinch on the side, Rose yelped, turned, and glared at me.
“If you’ll excuse us, ma’am,” I said with a flirty smile and a kiss to the back of her hand. “We are running a bit late for—”
“An appointment!” Rose cried out. Stepping out of my arm, Rose wished the woman a lovely evening, turned on her heels, and walked away as fast as she could.
Mrs. Pratter stared after her.
“If you’ll excuse me. It was a pleasure meeting you.”
The older woman nodded in confusion. “You as well.”
I calmly walked toward the bookstore where Rose had nearly thrown herself inside, a smile on my face and my feet a little lighter than normal.
“I’m going to love this little town.”
Chapter Fourteen
ROSE
Mrs. Pratter! Of all the people to run into, why did it have to be Mrs. Lucy Pratter? She most likely saw us kissing, and it would be around the gossip group within hours. Minutes even!
After racing to the back of the store and telling the young girl at the counter I was just looking, I made my way to the back corner and paced.
“If you were trying to give the woman any reason to think something was off with you, you were successful. She stared after you like you’d lost your damn mind.”
I stared at Bryson as he walked down the aisle of books, and for some reason, I had the crazy urge to lift my dress and tell him to take me right there. In the section of the bookstore that shelved all the self-help books. Maybe what I needed to do was buy some of them instead.
“Stop doing that!”
Bryson stopped in front of me. “Doing what?”
Lowering my voice, I whispered, “Looking all handsome and fuckable!”
He raised a brow. “A bookstore does it for you, huh? Remind me to put a library in the house you are designing.”
I nearly growled. “No, Bryson, you do! Dressed in dress slacks and a shirt that shows off your broad chest. By the way, your ass looks great in those pants.”
He turned slightly and looked at said ass. “Does it? Better than the baseball uniform?”
My mind flashed back to him standing on the pitcher’s mound. Biting down on my lower lip, I shook my head. “When you retire, will you be able to keep the uniform?”
With a soft laugh, Bryson reached for my hand and tugged me to him. “Why are you hiding in a bookstore from an old woman?”
“That old woman is the town’s biggest gossip. The first thing she’ll do is call the hotline and tell everyone Rose Marie Shaw was making out with a Greek god on Main Street.”
A wicked smile appeared on his face. “Greek god? And wait, is there really a hotline?”
I reached up and ran my finger along his strong jawline as I nodded. I wanted to skip dinner, skip meeting his parents, and fall into bed and forget anything and everyone existed.
“I’m scared, Bryson. Your parents?”
He kissed my forehead. “I know. Let’s blame your dad for bullying me.”
Dropping my head to his chest, I laughed.
Warm arms engulfed me, and I felt so safe. Why had I never felt like that way with any other man?
Destiny. Fate.
With a long, drawn-out sigh, I patted his chest. “We better go, or they’re going to think we’ve skipped out on them.”
Drawing in a deep breath, I exhaled as I looked up at him. My heart pounded in my chest, and I felt a jolt of desire hit me as he smiled down at me. “I’ve got you.”
With a nod, I took a step back. “Let’s go have dinner with our parents on our first official date.”
I could tell he attempted not to laugh as he held his arm out for me. When we walked by the front checkout area, the young girl asked, “Didn’t find what you were looking for?”
Glancing up at Bryson, I winked. “I believe I did.”
Not even five minutes later, we stepped into the Bitterroot Steak House. It hadn’t changed much since the last time I had been here, which was easily eight or so months ago, but there was a more masculine feel. Leathers and woods were prominent, and the white tablecloths contrasted starkly with all the dark colors.
Bryson told the hostess we had reservations under Robinson, and she grinned. “Yes! The rest of your party is here. They’re already seated.”
