AllFreeNovel
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I’m happy I fell for one of the only prey species in the program. Let the other women have the predators with their terrifying claws and sharp teeth. I’m happy with my handsome centaur in his sexy, purple kilt.
“Here we are.” He steps onto the wooden sidewalk and opens the door for me as if he’s a knight in shining armor.
The little bell over the shop door tinkles as we enter. This place has a nice high ceiling to accommodate him, although he had to hunch to get through the door.
“Hi, you two.” Lucy greets us, a wide smile on her face. “Welcome to Wild About Ice Cream. What will you have?”
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chance
I’m too old and have been through far too much to be this anxious over a trip to the ice cream shop. Maybe if I keep internally repeating that, reminding myself I’m just sharing dessert with a woman I’m with almost all day, every day, my body will take the hint. In the meantime, my palms are sweaty, my heart is racing, and I have to bite my cheeks to keep from grinning so hard all my teeth show.
I called ahead, and Lucy had one of the guys carry over a bar stool from the lounge. They also set the table on stacks of books, lifting it a foot off the ground. It looks sturdy enough that it won’t fall over on Jo.
I’m about to pull her stool out for her just like in the movies when Lucy says, “Take a look at the chalkboard menu and order over here.”
We’ve all been given “hybrid bucks” so we can buy things at the stores. Colonel Slater wants us to learn life skills, which includes spending money and making change. Olivia made me what she called a fanny pack that hangs in front of me below my waist. I’ve tucked the colorful pieces of paper there.
“My treat,” I say earnestly. “Buy whatever you want.”
Lucy looks as if she’s trying not to laugh. Perhaps I misunderstood the basics of dating, though I’ve read over a dozen articles on the Internet because I didn’t want to act like a fool.
“That’s very sweet.” Jo gives me an appreciative smile, then studies the board. ”I’ll have a minty meow milkshake. With whipped cream.”
Even though I’m one of the only splicers who enjoys sweets, I have no idea what to order. When I finally shift my gaze away from the menu to give Lucy my order, she’s looking at me as though I took far too long to make my decision. I wish her face was less expressive. I’m getting more anxious by the second.
“A scoop of panda-monium pecan, please.”
She gives me an approving smile. Maybe I just read her wrong. “How about two scoops, Chance? I’ll pop for the extra one.”
“Pop?” I have no idea what she means, so my mind throws me a picture of her scattering into a million shreds like a popped balloon. That couldn’t be what she meant. Right?
“No charge for the extra scoop.” She explains, smiling indulgently.
When Jo and I are alone, I’ll have to ask why Lucy didn’t just say that in the first place.
Once we’re served, I escort Jo to our tall table, pull out her stool, and lift her onto it. I thought maybe Jo would feel silly at this rigged table, but she looks happy enough to be with me.
There’s a question about Python programming language that’s on the tip of my tongue, but I bite it back. I may be new at this, but I know that’s not what two people are supposed to talk about on a date.
Jo pushes her milkshake across the table and tips the straw in my direction. “Want to try it?”
It feels like a century since we shared our last kiss. There’s something so intimate about placing my lips where hers just vacated. I keep our gazes locked and take a sip. To my dying day, I’ll never know what her minty meow milkshake tasted like. All I can pay attention to is the wordless conversation we’re having. Without a doubt, I know we’re both wishing we were kissing instead of eating.
It dawns on me that I should be sharing my ice cream cone with her. When I reach across the table, cone in hand, she grips my wrist and pulls it closer, her green eyes flaring deep emerald as she gazes at me.
When she licks her lips and then her little pink tongue flicks out to lap at the cold treat, I wonder if her antics will kill me. Instead of using the flat of her tongue, she uses the tip to excavate a piece of brownie embedded in the vanilla ice cream.
Is she doing this on purpose? She’s digging and swirling as she works to extricate the dark, little piece of brownie. I’m glad Olivia made this kilt long, because my cock is hard as a steel rod and it’s pointing straight at Jo.
“Ummm.” She elongates the syllable and her eyes close as if she’s in ecstasy.
Damn her. She’s doing this on purpose. I may not know much, but I know that sound should be reserved for sex and has no place in the Wild About Ice Cream Shoppe.
Her eyes close as her lashes fan her face. All the while, she acts as if that one tiny bite of brownie is the best thing she’s ever had in her mouth. I’m reminded of our first day in the office when I came all over both myself and the floor when she wasn’t even in the room.
“Jo. Please.” Shit. I was pleading. I imagine that sounded pathetic, not macho or attractive at all.
