that case.
* * *
Gigi: You like tub photos? Noted.
* * *
West: I like YOU photos. Note that.
* * *
Gigi: Then, just imagine I’m sending you a picture of me walking out of the wine shop two blocks from your place with a fantastic chardonnay for the chicken you’re making. Because this wine pairs very well with chicken, though honestly, I bought it because I thought it would pair well with your lips.
* * *
West: I like your thinking, woman.
* * *
Gigi: I also brought a peach pie. Because…peach pie.
* * *
West: Peach pie needs no explanation.
* * *
Gigi: And I don’t have to be at work until ten tomorrow.
* * *
West: Brilliant.
* * *
Gigi: Also, West?
* * *
West: Yes?
* * *
Gigi: I never responded to your text from last night. About the chocolate.
* * *
West: You’re not required to respond.
* * *
Gigi: I know. But if I were you, I would have wanted a response. I was honestly just…a little scared.
* * *
West: Of what?
* * *
Gigi: That if I texted back, I’d confess how much I loved buying you a little gift. Picking it out and hoping you’d like it. Hoping that you’d think of me.
* * *
West: I loved it, Gigi, and I absolutely thought of you. I think of you often.
* * *
Gigi: Good. Because here I am, ringing your bell.
* * *
West: Oh, you are definitely ringing my bell.
18
Gigi
Dreams coming true.
I swear I can see them taunting me from just over the hill. Peeking around the corner. Poking their head out like a groundhog in February searching for spring.
I have a wild, loop-de-loop feeling in my chest and suspect that Dreams Coming True might taste even better than the peach pie I brought for dessert.
But first, I indulge in West’s yummy buttermilk-marinated roast chicken and sautéed broccolini and, gasp, bread.
Homemade bread.
It’s warm and yeasty and pillowy. I rip off a hunk and pop it into my mouth. I lick my lips, delighted that my boyf—nope, he’s my date, that’s all—can cook this well.
“If your scones taste anything like this bread, I might have to revisit my feelings about them,” I say after I finish chewing. We’re at the counter in his kitchen, perched on wooden bar stools, surrounded by his fantastic cooking.
Lifting his wine glass, he arches a wry brow. “If you mean that my scones are heavenly, mouth-watering and delicious, you’d be right.” He takes a drink of the wine, then sets it down. “I’m looking forward to you rescinding all those horrid things you said.”
I give him a saucy look. “You’ll have to prove they’re as good as this bread.”
He drops a kiss to my cheek. “That means you’ll have to come over again.”
My breath catches. He asked me for another date.
Though, really, tonight is basically a hookup.
A hookup with yummy food and board games, but still… I shouldn’t jump to conclusions.
Except, those familiar play-it-cool tricks aren’t working. I can’t fool myself any longer, and I don’t really want to. Tonight feels like so much more than casual sex.
At least, it does to me.
So…this is a real date.
And he just asked me on another one.
I give him the only answer I can. “Then I say yes.”
He cups my cheek and brushes his lips to mine, sending the world spiraling away in a dazzling wine-soaked kiss.
But soon, he breaks it. “Time for Monopoly. Fair warning, if I don’t win in thirty minutes, I’m likely to forfeit because I don’t know how long I can wait to have you, love.”
I tap his nose lightly with my finger. “Good things come to those who wait.”
But I don’t want him to wait. I really don’t.
“I’m close. So close.” I shimmy my shoulders in a near-victory dance as he places the race car on Boardwalk. “I am a hotel magnate! Pay up, mister. Pay up!”
I rub my thumb and forefinger together.
He grumbles but turns over several bills. “You are terrible,” he says from our spot on the couch in his library, the game spread out on the coffee table.
“I know, but I’m a very benevolent hotel owner, and if you play your cards right, you might get the room service special.” I give him an over-the-top wink as I waggle the fake bills.
I punctuate my showboating by leaning closer to give my sexy Brit a hot smooch.
I can’t even blame the wine. I only had one glass. But I’m feeling so bubbly. So effervescent.
I want to kiss him and touch him and talk to him. I want to play