his tongue, and we both cut into our food.
The first bite is incredible. “I think Carlo’s sauce really makes it.”
“Hey! I did the heavy lifting, put my heart into it. But … fine, the sauce is really freaking good.”
We lapse into silence for a moment, eating, before Fletcher picks the conversation back up.
“How is the summer course going?”
I take a sip of water to clear my throat. “It’s great. The kids are learning a lot. I have them doing these modules I created, of how to stop a minor data breach. Or how to detect what the hacker took using the clues in the code.”
“That sounds totally badass. Like some secret spy type of stuff. It always amazes me, what you do. You have to be really smart to understand all of that … code is like another language.”
A small smile stretches my lips. “That’s what I always say; I’m fluent in computer. It really is another dialect, and it just happens to come naturally to me. Speaking of that, I got your Etsy page up and running. And I created a brand logo for you, I think you’ll like it.” I cut into my chicken, fork a piece, and sigh when it hits my tongue.
Fletcher’s eyebrows knit together. “You made a logo for me and didn’t even run it by me?”
I shrug, not fazed that the move was a tad bossy. “It’s not like you bothered having one before. Or a website, or an online storefront. Did you really care what your branding looked like?”
He tips his head to the side, the longer brown locks on the top of his head shifting to fall over one side of his forehead. “I guess not. I mean, I’d have no idea how to even create branding, much less what I’d want for it. I trust you. Plus, you’re hot when you’re in charge.”
A blush creeps up my neck. He trusts me, that’s what he just said. Out of all the men I’ve been with, not one has uttered that sequence of words to me.
“How is the clock project?”
Fletcher has already finished half his plate, and yet again I’m amazed at how fast men eat. “Going good. The sketches are finalized and have been approved by the town council. So now I just have to start carving, building, working with metal … which I’ve never done before. And then there is the whole process of building the mechanism inside. I have no idea how to make a clock actually work … so it’ll take some time.”
Just hearing him talk about it, you can see the excitement on his face. “I think it’s great, though. You’ll get it done. Especially since you’re so passionate about it. That’s what matters.”
“And how about you? Have you found your next passion project?” There is a slight edge to his voice, and I think I know why.
We haven’t talked about me staying or going, when it comes to Fawn Hill. This is his home, not mine, and no one in the Nash clan really has any idea how long I’ll be in town.
“Not yet. I kind of like teaching the kids, though.” I avoid answering in any other real sense, and we finish our meal with small talk about TV shows, sports teams, and the like.
When Fletcher gets up to clear the table, silencing me as I protest that he cooked, I take the time to look around his apartment. It’s clean and homey, if not a bit sparse with some outdated pieces. But, he’s finally out of his mom’s place, and I can thank the privacy gods for that.
“Do you want to go out for ice cream or something? Take a walk in the park?” Fletcher asks as I push out from the table.
Something comes over me, and I realize … I do not want to do either of those things.
“No. I want you to show me your bedroom.”
I don’t put on that husky, fake sensual tone that you see in pornos. I also don’t wink or raise an eyebrow. I say it to him straight, so that he knows I’m not teasing. I really want him to take me into his room so that we can fall into bed together.
Fletcher must understand that, or maybe he’s just taking his reward for putting on an excellent dinner date, because he doesn’t hesitate. One second, we’re standing a respectable distance apart, and the next, his mouth is covering mine and those sturdy hands are guiding my hips