fish. “Good luck fitting those in,” he says in such a way you’d think I ate all four appetizers by myself, which I did not.
We concentrate on our food like we’re professional eaters. Halfway through my fish I let out the most unladylike groan. “I think my underwear is getting tight.”
Buck shifts in his chair and says, “I unbuttoned my pants when you were in the ladies’ room.” Not super sexy banter, to be sure.
“Do you want some of the ravioli?” I ask.
He shakes his head. “It’s not humanly possible. We’ll have to wrap it up and take it home.”
When the waiter arrives to tell us that the chocolate soufflé we ordered at the beginning of the meal will be out of the oven in fifteen minutes, I nearly cry.
“We can’t take that home,” Buck declares. “It’ll be inedible within ten minutes of coming out of the oven.” I wouldn’t know as I’ve never had a soufflé.
He continues, “There’s only one thing to do.”
“Give it away to strangers?” I ask hopefully.
“Nope.” He rebuttons his pants before standing up. “We’ve got to walk some of this off.” Then he pulls out my chair for me.
“I don’t think I can move,” I assure him.
He yanks me to my feet anyway. “Don’t be a quitter.” Then he takes my hand and practically drags me to the door. As we pass our waiter, he says, “We’ll be strolling around the deck until our dessert is ready.”
We climb the stairs to the upper deck and I nearly sit down before we get there. “Keep moving,” Buck orders.
He takes me by the hand and proceeds to stride from the bow to stern and back again. On and on we go like we’re training for an Olympic event. You know, the walking in formal attire riverboat speed walk? The Germans will have nothing on us.
On the third lap, I stop to take off my high heels so I can continue on bare feet. “You really do look lovely tonight,” Buck tells me.
“Thank you,” I say, grateful that he’s finally acting like this might be a date.
“You’re supposed to say, ‘You look pretty ravishing yourself, Buck.’”
“You look great and you know it,” I tell him in a pouty voice.
Buck takes my hand and leads the way to the railing overlooking the Mississippi River. The three-quarter moon is reflected on the surface, wavering slightly as the current flows through it. “Ashley Alice Monroe …” he starts to say. My radar beeps with alarm as I can only think of one other time Buck pulled out my middle name. It was after my mom died and he was going back to London. He said, “Ashley Alice Monroe, I will always be there for you. Wherever you are, whatever you need, all you have to do is call.”
Presently, Buck says, “Ashley Alice Monroe, you are my dearest friend in this world. You know my secrets, you know my dreams, and you know my struggles. You are my kryptonite. And you’re way the hell too important to me to risk our friendship.”
“So, you don’t want to kiss me,” I declare dejectedly.
“I think kissing you would be lovely.”
“Then why aren’t we kissing?” I want to know.
“Do you think we’re the loves of each other’s lives?” His doubt is clear.
I shrug, trying not to give way to the sadness that’s starting to affect my ability to breathe. “I love you. I can’t imagine a life without you,” I tell him honestly.
“But do you want to have your way with me right here on the deck? Is it all you can do not to chain yourself to me night and day and use me as your own personal sex slave?”
I never quite thought of it like that. Instead of answering him, I say, “I’d like to kiss you.”
Buck stares into my eyes, digging through layers of confusion until he reaches my core. Then he takes me into his arms and pulls me close before slowly lowering his mouth to my own.
The kiss is sweet and warm and wonderful, but he doesn’t deepen it to see if it becomes something carnal. He just wraps his arms around me and holds me close while I put my head on his shoulder. A tear leaks out and slides down my cheek when he says, “I love you, Ash.” But he doesn’t say anything else. He just looks at me with the intensity one might use when reading a Chinese phone book looking for a decipherable word.
Chapter Forty-Four
April 14,