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I looked up at him shocked. “Is that what this is?”
“It depends,” he answered, bringing the hot dog to his mouth.
I took a deep breath and attempted to open my hot dog again and try not to freak out. A date. I’d only ever had a date with one man my whole life. “On what?” I asked, eyeing the delicious-looking hot dog in front of me, but feeling too nervous to eat it.
“On you,” he answered plainly, his mouth full.
I licked some mustard off my finger but left my food right there on the table. “Why me?” I asked, genuinely curious.
“Eat, Slugger,” he said, gesturing to my food with his chin.
I picked my food up off the table and took a big bite of one of the best hot dogs I’d ever had. “Wow!” I moaned around the food in my mouth.
“Right?” he agreed, taking another big bite before continuing with our previous line of conversation. “It depends on you. Because me? I’m here because I want to be on a date with you. But I told you we were going to take this day by day and make decisions together. So, I guess what I need to know is, do you want to be here with me on this date, too?”
I smiled and rolled my eyes at the same damn time because only Weston Reeves would take a girl on a date and then ask her if she wanted to go.
I took another bite of that delicious hot dog and chewed slowly because I wanted to make the infuriating man wait. He was a damn psycho-stalker-date-stealer and he deserved it.
“Well?” he asked, his face full of nerves and I almost felt bad. Almost.
I swallowed my food. “I’m here, aren’t I?” I smarted.
But that wasn’t the answer he was looking for if the wrinkle right between his two eyebrows was anything to go by and I honestly wanted to fall out laughing. “But do you want to be here?” he questioned.
And because I’m a total shit sometimes, I answered, “You’re asking do I, Emily Slugger Davies, want to be here eating the best damn hot dog I’ve ever had with you, Weston pain in the ass Reeves, on a date?”
The wrinkle between his brows disappeared and one side of his mouth hitched in that barely-there smile that always hit me right in my girl parts. “That’s what I’m asking, Emily Slugger Davies.”
I bit my lip to keep from laughing. “There’s nowhere else in the world I’d rather be,” I said, placing my hand over his on the table.
He gave me one of those sunshine smiles that could stop a girl’s heart and went back to wolfing down his hot dog and surprisingly enough I ate both of mine, too. They were that good.
We got back on his bike and rode home, our stomachs full, our hearts hanging out for the world to see. It was scary and special and liberating in a way I hadn’t felt before.
And when we pulled into my neighborhood, I was confused because I’d assumed we were heading to his place. So, when he parked the bike in my drive and helped me off, I was feeling a bit put out.
He turned off his bike and slipped off it before helping me off.
“You look damn good in that helmet, Slugger.”
I preened and turned from side to side, pretending to model it for him, and laughed.
“Not good enough for you to take home, though?” I asked, curious about why we were here instead of at his place.
“Can’t a guy just take his girl on a date and bring her home like a good guy afterward?” he asked, wrapping his arms around my waist.
I undid my pretty helmet and took it off, holding it in one hand and poking out my lip.
He leaned over and kissed that protruding lip. “No pouting, Slugger. You can come over to my house later this week and I’ll let you ride my face again.”
I blushed down to the tips of my toes.
He gave a low chuckle and rubbed the side of my face with his knuckles. “I want you to know that this, us, means more to me than sex. Okay?”
I nodded, butterflies swarming my stomach, my face hot, my legs tingly.
He lowered his mouth to mine slowly, sipping from my lips like I was a fine wine, taking his time like we had all night.
