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Wade gives me a curious smile. “What’s up?”
“There’s an exit coming up. Let’s take it.”
He stops drumming and I feel the temperature go up.
Clearing my throat, I try to sound as casual as I intend this thing to be. “This time, no telling me what you’re going to do before you do it. Just act natural and let’s see how it goes.”
When we pull into the station, it’s into a spot about halfway across the parking area rather than at the pump.
He cuts the engine and hops out. And when I open my door, he’s there, flashing me that smoldering smile, eyes crinkled at the edges, mischief shining through.
“Okay, Good Girl, ready for some more practice?”
“Ready to be wowed? I’m going to kill it.” Then I hold up a hand. “Wait, I know we said we weren’t going to, but do you think you should try kissing me this time? Just in case?”
Wade’s eyes drop to my mouth, linger for a beat that does something sort of strange to my chest. “You’d let me kiss you?”
His voice sounds deeper, each word almost deliberately placed.
“I mean… if you think it will convince whoever needs convincing. Then, yes.”
“I appreciate that.” His eyes shift back to mine, his smile returning. “But how about we don’t pull the pin on that one unless we really need to.”
“Emergency kissing only. Got it.”
Wade lets out a gruff chuckle. “It’s a plan.”
I start to climb out of the car, but Wade’s there. His big hands landing on my hips to lift me down. I’m not expecting it and go stiff for a second.
But wow.
I’ve never had a thing for athletes. Those oversized jocks who always seemed to take up more space than their share drove me crazy in school. Right now, though? Wade is giving me a lesson in the benefits of muscles.
“Might have to work on that one,” he says with a smile.
“You’re strong.” I think my heart might have stopped beating, or maybe I just stopped breathing.
He winks. “Hockey player.”
Catching my hand in his, he walks backward, pulling me along with him toward the store. That smile as firmly in place as the eye contact he’s not giving up.
It’s another novel experience. Uncomfortable and a little electric all at once.
“You want to look away. I can see it,” he teases in a low, singsong voice. “Bet you can’t make it all the way inside.”
“Oh, I can make it inside,” I assure him, my own smile rising to the challenge.
I’m not afraid of eye contact. In business, I have no qualms about meeting a man’s eyes, and I can say with some degree of certainty I’m rarely the one to blink first. And never because I’m intimidated.
But with Wade, it’s different. None of those business associates offered the undercurrent of smolder in their smiles that Wade Grady seems incapable of shutting down in his.
He pushes through the front door and grins. “You win.” Then, when I think he’s going to let my hand go, he changes the hold so our fingers are threaded together and leads me toward the coolers. “Let’s grab a drink.”
When we get back to the car, me with an iced tea and Wade with some jacked-up water drink, I shake my head. “I can do better.”
He pulls my door open and helps me up. “You did fine. Don’t get in your own head.”
I scoff, waiting until he rounds the hood and climbs in on his side. “That was a seventy percent.At best.”
