done chewing for a moment?”
“Yes.”
He leaned forward. “You have the sexiest mouth.”
“Even with a boxer’s lip?”
“Even then.”
I made the time-out sign.
“What?”
“I think before you try and melt my damn panties while I’m scarfing down appetizers, we should review our dating ground rules.”
“Jesus. Of course she has rules.” He knocked back a large drink of his margarita. “Hit me with rule one.”
“We’re exclusive.”
“Kind of a no-brainer, Gabriella.”
I ate another mushroom. “Rule two. STDs. We exchange health histories ASAP because I’m allergic to most condoms. We could use a spermicide if you want, even when I’m on the pill.”
Nolan’s eyes flashed with heat. “This matter-of-fact discussion of us fucking is turning me on. Was that your intent?”
I rolled my eyes. “You won’t even kiss me, so no.”
“I don’t have an STD, despite my manwhore past. I had a physical mid-January. All clean.” He pulled out his phone and started swiping through apps. Within a minute, my phone pinged with a text message. “My latest test results. I haven’t been with anyone since New Year’s Eve.”
“Not being sarcastic, but is that unusual for you?”
“Very. I wanted my personal life to go a different direction this year and it has.” He stole a fry. “How about you?”
“I also had my yearly physical in January, as required by the Minnesota Youth Hockey League. Clean test results, which I’ll send after I piss and moan about the fact I can’t remember my damn log-in for the health site.”
He snickered.
“The last time Tyson and I had sex was like . . . December.”
“It’s April.”
“Yeah, so? Like I told you earlier, I was a shitty girlfriend to him. But I promise, Lund, I will be the very best girlfriend to you.”
“You’re already the best girlfriend since you’ll be the first woman I’ve ever slept with without wearing a condom.”
I fake gasped. “I get to be a first for you for something?”
“The pressure is on, baby.” He grabbed my hand and kissed my knuckles. “I wanna be a first for you for something too.”
“Maybe you’ll be the first guy who can beat me at golf.” I stood. “Let’s play.”
He frowned at all the remaining food. “But you barely ate anything.”
“I was a dumbass ordering what I did, since it’s all breaded and salty and impossible to eat. I’ll be fine.”
“Wrong. I’m not taking a chance you’ll topple over the edge, so I’ll find something on this menu you can eat while you figure out your password and send me your health history.”
Okay then.
By the time I found the information, copied it and texted it to him, the fruit and protein smoothie he’d ordered had arrived.
“Thank you, Nolan. This is really sweet of you.”
He messed with the digital screen, adding our names. “What game do you want to play first?”
“What are the choices?”
“Basic high score out of nine balls, or accuracy hitting four targets, or farthest shot and closest to the flag shot.”
“Nine balls.”
As he relayed our game choice, I wandered over to choose my club. All of them were kind of crappy choices. I lifted the one I wanted out and spun around.
Nolan took one look at me holding the 9-iron and began to laugh. Hard.
“Wanna share what’s so gut-bustlingly funny?”
“Happy Gilmore.”
“Excuse me?”
“This reminds me of Happy Gilmore.”
“Because I’m a hockey player about to play golf?”
“Yes! I freakin’ love that movie. And now I’m annoyed with myself for not naming it when we were texting about comfort movies.”
“You’re weird, Lund.”
“Not a surprise to you, Happy.”
I lowered the golf club. “Did you just call me Happy?”
“Yep. I’ve decided that’ll be my pet name for you.”
“No.”
“Yes. Come on. It’s perfect. And that means you get to give me a pet name too.”
I opened my mouth to say something rude, when he stopped me. “Something nice, Happy.”
Christ. He’d nicknamed me Happy.
At least he wasn’t calling me Crabby Gabi.
Think, Gabi. Something clever. Something to do with a prince . . .
Aha.
I smirked at him. “Okay. Got one.”
“Tell me.”
“You have to earn it. So quit stalling and let’s play. You can even go first.”
I realized he really knew how to play golf after I witnessed his Tiger Woods–worthy swing.
Jerk.
So, looking around to make sure no one was watching me, I went for comedic relief, racing up to the ball sideways, swinging my golf club like a caveman the way Happy did in the movie.
Nolan laughed so hard he was crying.
To see him let go so completely with me . . . that was heady stuff.
When the man trounced me in all three styles of