awkward than other firsts.”
I narrow my eyes at the innuendo there, and he grins. I clink his glass. “I’m all for less awkward.”
“Good.” He takes a sip of beer, sets it down, and removes the napkin from his shirt. “Then let’s get this out of the way.”
“What?”
He pushes our plates to the side and crooks his finger at me. “The goodnight kiss. That way there’s no awkward tension at the end of the night.”
I stare at him, completely thrown. Who does that? Actually talks about it and puts it out there?
“Would you prefer I come to you?” he asks.
He assumes I’m okay with a kiss. It’s just a matter of how.
“Harper, our food’s getting cold.” He crooks his finger again. “And we don’t want to miss the show.”
It’s suddenly urgent that I lean toward him. He cups my jaw and gives me a gentle kiss. A rush of sensation goes through me like a shot of whiskey, powerful and heated from the smallest sip, warming me all the way to my toes.
He draws back, his gaze intent on mine. “You okay?”
“Yeah,” I say softly.
He shifts my dinner back in front of me. “No more awkward moment to worry about. Tell me how your taping went yesterday.”
My gaze jerks to his. He sounds so casual and comfortable. Didn’t he feel that chemistry? He nods for me to go ahead, his eyes smoldering. He did feel it.
I let out a small sigh of happiness. You know what? He’s right. It’s better to get the awkward out of the way. So I go ahead and tell him about the taping and how the comedian who was supposed to warm up the crowd called out sick at the last minute, so Josie went out there and entertained them just by having a conversation. I could never do that, but she’s had lots of improv training and does standup comedy for fun. Shudder.
The rest of the meal passes in such a relaxed way I’m surprised when he asks if I’d like to take a walk before the show or just hang out here.
He sets his napkin on the table and stands. “We’ve got a little time since I prepared the meal ahead.”
He sounds super casual. Too casual. It makes me think he cooked it ahead just so we’d have more time together the two of us. He’s clever, finding ways to connect with me. And is that really such a bad thing? He seems sincere.
His lips curve up, a bemused expression on his gorgeous face. “You’re thinking awfully hard.”
“It’s probably best if we stay here. Joe will have to tail us out there.” I point toward the door.
“Okay.” He stands there, hands in his pockets, looking at me expectantly.
“I’ll clean up since you cooked, and meet you on the sofa.”
“I’ll help.”
It’s weird to have a guy willing to pitch in. I guess I’m used to spoiled guys with staff to handle the mundane. Garrett rolls up his sleeves before gathering our plates. His forearms are tanned and corded with muscle. I’m dying to stroke the contour of muscle there and so many other places. I join him at the sink, where he’s rinsing dishes and putting them in the dishwasher. He barely gave me a chance to do anything besides put our glasses away. We’re finished in no time. There’s still leftovers, so I put the lid back on the glass dish and transfer it to the refrigerator.
“Do you mind if I leave the dish and beer here?” he asks.
“Of course. Not like you can take it to the theater. I’ll get it back to you through Josie.”
“Or I could pick it up.”
“Sure. Whatever works.” My voice hits a high pitch. I feel like I’m already committing to date two at my place. I’m not sure how much longer I can resist temptation.
He smiles, his eyes soft. “For once I’m not adding flirty meaning. It’s just a casserole dish, bag, and five beers. You can keep them, or I can get them later. Just stuff, yeah?”
I stare at him. “How do you do that? How do you know what I’m thinking?”
“You’re sensitive, right?”
I clamp my mouth shut. That’s a major flaw of mine I’ve worked my whole life to hide.
He gives my arm a squeeze. “I know you are. It’s in your eyes. It shines through on Living Gold. I am too. So I can read you just like you can read me. If you tried to read me, that is. I can tell you’re