make Tom do what I want him to do. I still have so many questions about what the purpose of our powers is. I need to talk more to Trace about this.
Trace, whom I’m having dinner with tonight. After all the time we’ve spent together, alone and with family, this is something new. A date. Aaaaah!
He told me we’re going to the Grove on North Halsted. I haven’t been there, but it has a reputation for good food and not super pricey. At home, I wash up and change into skinny jeans that hit just above my ankle, a tiered blue camisole top, and heels. I’ve been messing around with my hair lately. In my Pinterest explorations I’ve discovered tutorials for all kinds of styles, and I’ve learned how to flip the ends up and use a texturizer to make it look messy but stylish. At least I hope it looks stylish and not like a bad perm from the 1980s.
Trace picks me up, and my nerves settle as he takes me in his arms and kisses me. The feel of his mouth on mine in deep, lush kisses scatters every worry from my mind, and I melt against him. He draws back, lips quirked. “Hi.”
“Hi.”
God, I missed him so much the past few days.
“You look pretty.”
“Thanks.” I love the admiring heat in his eyes as they move over me.
We head out. It’s a short drive to the restaurant. On the way, I tell him proudly, “I saved a cat today.”
“Yeah? How’d you do that?”
“He was stuck in a tree. I used a spell to get him down.”
He grins and flashes me a look of genuine admiration. “Good for you.”
My heart gives a joyful bump. “And I didn’t turn the cat into a cheetah. That would have been a problem.”
He chuckles. “Yeah, no kidding.”
Trace finds a parking spot on the street about a block past the restaurant. We stroll the sidewalk in the warm summer evening, chatting, then enter the restaurant. Since it’s a nice night, we choose to sit on the patio, and the hostess leads us through the restaurant to big, wide-open doors. The patio’s a courtyard, with brick walls, lots of plants, and party lights strung above us.
We sit next to a wall and order drinks, then study the menu. Everything is very fresh, and they even list the local farms they buy from. “Hard to decide,” I murmur.
“Everything is good.”
“Okay. I think I might have a pizza. The one with prosciutto and egg sounds good.”
Trace ends up ordering the roasted half chicken.
When that’s taken care of, our eyes meet across the table. I smile. “How are you? I mean… are you still okay with…” I wave a hand between us. “This?”
He looks so handsome, also in jeans and a blue-and-white-striped button-down shirt with the cuffs rolled back. He rubs a hand over his stubbled chin. “Yeah.”
I know he said it’s not me, but it’s hard not to feel slighted at his hesitancy. The last thing I want is for him to be unhappy. But he said… he can’t get enough of me. Can’t stop thinking about me. I’ve replayed that over and over in my head. No one’s ever said anything like that to me.
I drop my gaze to my wheat ale garnished with a slice of orange.
Trace reaches across the table and curls his fingers around my hand. “I’m sorry. This is me fucking things up. Like I told you.”
“Remember the night we met?”
“Oh yeah.”
“That was fun.”
“It was.”
“Can we just do that?”
He holds my gaze steadily, his eyes warm. “Yeah. Let’s do that.” One corner of his mouth hooks up. “No turtle races here though.”
I smile. “No. Maybe we’ll have to swing by the Singing Horse.”
“No. I know where we can go after dinner.”
“Where?”
“It’s a surprise.”
“Is it a haunted house?”
His grin is so damn gorgeous it takes my breath away. “Maybe.”
I give him side-eye. “Hmm. Okay.” I decide to change the topic. “So did you do much screwing or nailing today?”
His eyes gleam. “None.”
“That’s too bad.”
“Tell me about it,” he mutters.
“Maybe later,” I suggest in a flirty tone.
He lowers his chin, his eyes darkening. “Count on it.”
I squeeze my thighs. “I am now.”
He makes a rough sound in his throat. I like it.
“So what other TV shows do you like?”
He gives me a blank look.
“Besides Brooklyn Nine-Nine.”
“Ah.” His forehead smooths. “I really like Justified.”
I purse my lips. “Haven’t seen it.”
“Also Chuck.”
“I haven’t even heard of that one.”
“What shows do you like?”
“Bridgerton. The Crown. And that