“Why not?” As the flavor hit his tongue, his eyes opened wide and then closed on a groan of pleasure. “Oh, that is good,” he said around a mouthful of fried shrimp and bread. “So good.”
Before he could deprive me of my delicious treat, I took it back from him. “Want to get some to go and eat it at home?”
“That sounds perfect. But I’m waiting in the car.”
“Why don’t you go get us something to drink while I wait?” I suggested.
“Deal.”
“Do you trust me to order for you?”
“Totally. Do you need anything else when I’m at the store?”
I took a mental inventory of my kitchen. “Pick me up a half-gallon of milk?”
“You got it.” He held his hand out for the car keys.
“Be gentle with my baby,” I said.
“I’ll treat her like my own child,” he promised. “See you in a few.”
14 Carson
It started to rain as we drove home, a real downpour that turned the interior of Eric’s ten-year-old Lexus sedan into a cozy intimate space. The food smelled delicious, and Eric sat behind the wheel, humming along to a playlist of songs we loved. I wished the drive was longer.
Eric lived in a neighborhood of old homes on wide tree-lined streets. There was no attached garage, just a barn-like structure near the back fence of the property. He let the car coast up the long concrete driveway, stopping outside a side door.
Raindrops hammered on the roof of the car. “Ready to make a run for it?” he asked, reaching for the beer and milk.
“Can’t we eat in the car?” I asked.
“I mean, we could,” he answered thoughtfully. “But it will probably be more comfortable in the house.”
“Probably.” It wasn’t that I particularly wanted to eat in the car, I just wasn’t sure being alone in the house with Eric was such a good idea. Being this close to him was torture. It was so easy to be with him. I wanted to lay my head on his shoulder and feel his strong arms around me. I wanted to relax. I knew myself, I was weak. If he gave me even the faintest of green lights, I would push and try to get him in bed.
I could do it. I knew what he’d want to hear. I’d spent my adult life learning how to discern what people wanted and how to give it to them. I was a manipulative bastard to the bone. But was it manipulation if he wanted me? “Fine.” The door was a mere ten feet away with two shallow steps and tall bushes on either side. My delicious-smelling food was safely tucked away in environmentally unsafe Styrofoam boxes stuffed into a plastic bag.
Eric hugged the beer and milk close to his body. “Okay. On three. One. Two. Three.”
We threw open the car doors and ran for the house. Eric slipped in the mud, catching himself on one hand and laughing like a maniac. Rain rolled down my face and under my collar.
Eric fumbled with the keys and they fell to the ground. “Shit.” We both reached for them, which only resulted in the keyring being knocked off the step into the bush. “Fuck!” He thrust the grocery bags into my hands and knelt down on the step, stretching out his arm to grope for the keys.
“Don’t fall,” I advised helpfully. Water poured from the leaves of the bushes as he looked.
“Got ’em!”
“Open it!”
“I’m trying!”
By the time we got inside the house, we were soaked through and laughing like idiots.
The door opened directly into the kitchen. I tossed the food on the counter, my feet squishing with every step, my hair plastered to my face.
Water turned Eric’s T-shirt transparent and raindrops clung to the fringe of eyelashes around his sparkling blue eyes. He was gorgeous. “Oh my God, I’m soaked.” He stripped his T-shirt off and started unbuttoning his jeans.
I must have made a sound because he looked up, jerking his chin at me. “You, too, Carly. You’re not walking through my house dripping like the swamp thing.”
Obviously, the universe was testing me. Could I be naked in a house, alone, with Eric and not make a move? The jury was deadlocked, but leaning towards no. On the other hand, he was a grown-up and, from the look in his eye, knew exactly what he was asking. I shrugged mentally. Whatever happened after this was okay with me. “Fine.”