My fault.
So I'd asked him if he had an estimate yet, and he'd growled at me.
Then I'd asked about Bran.
So far our date was working out just spiffy.
I went back to playing with my skirt.
"Mercy," Adam said, his voice even more growly than it had been.
"What?" If I snapped at him, it was his own fault for getting grumpy at me first.
"If you don't stop playing with that dress, I'm going to rip it right off you, and we won't be heading for dinner." I looked at him.
He was watching the road, and both hands were on the wheel ...
but once I paid attention, I could see what I'd done to him.
Me.
With remnants of grease under my fingernails and stitches in my chin.
Maybe I hadn't screwed up the date as badly as all of that.
I smoothed the skirt back down, successfully resisting the urge to pull it up farther only because I wasn't sure I could handle what might happen.
I thought Adam was joking, but ...
I turned my head toward my side window and tried to keep the grin off my face.
He drove us to a restaurant that had just opened in the boom-town that was forming in West Pasco.
Just a couple of years ago it had been barren desert, but now there were restaurants, a theater, a Lowe's and ...
a hugeyenormous (Jesse's word) giant-sized Wal-Mart.
"I hope you like Thai." He parked us out in the middle of west nowhere in the parking lot.
Paranoia has odd manifestations.
It gave me panic attacks and made him park where he could manage a quick getaway.
Shared paranoia--could a happily-ever-after be far off for us? I hopped out of the front seat and said in suitably resolute tones, "I'm sure they have hamburgers." I shut the door on his appalled face.
The locks clicked, and there he was, one arm on either side of me ...
grinning.
"You like Thai," he said.
"Admit it." I folded my arms and ignored the gibbering idiot who kept shrieking "he's got me trapped, trapped" in the back of my head.
It helped that Adam up close is even better than half a car away.
And Adam with a grin ...
well.