Redesigning Fate (Revive #1) - A. M. Wilson Page 0,19

I like it. More than like it. “That sounds wonderful,” I squeak before taking a hurried sip of water.

“And are you ready to order, or do you need a few more minutes?” Again, she speaks only to Elias, her eyes boring holes into the side of his head when he fails to look at her.

“I’m ready,” I pipe in, tearing her attention away from my date. “I’ll have the Chicken Marsala, please.”

“Make that two,” Elias chimes in, keeping his attention focused on my face.

The waitress scoops up the menus and stalks away, obviously disappointed in his lack of interest. A rush of excitement washes through me. I can recall more than one occasion I’d caught Travis’s eyes wandering, brightening at the sight of a pretty woman or darkening at the sight of a nice rack or ass. To have Elias’s undivided attention is a rare treat I’m unaccustomed to, and it’s definitely sweet.

The conversation prior to our interruption leaves me ill at ease so I bring us full circle. As much as I hate confrontation, I’d rather not spend the next indefinite amount of time with Elias wondering if my age is a turn off. So I steel myself with a deep breath and forge on.

“Does it bother you that I’m so young?” My voice is a caressing whisper, and I watch Elias’s eyelids droop as if it’s delicately stroking his skin.

“No way,” he answers immediately looking not at all perplexed at my question. He must have understood I was feeling uneasy where we’d left off.

Well that’s a relief. Time to move forward onto the next nerve-wracking subject. I’m sensing a lot of similarities between first dates and interviews. The suspense of where the conversation will lead is both exhilarating and anxiety inducing. I could use a Xanax. Or some Tequila.

His hand gives mine a gentle squeeze, which prompts me to move the conversation to safer territory.

“You play guitar?” I ask although I already know the answer by the rough callouses on his fingers. There is something incredibly sexy about a guitar player, and if he can sing, I’m done for.

“I do.”

“Hmm…” I let my response hang between us until curiosity wins and ask, “And do you sing?”

“I do sing,” he replies.

“I should rephrase that. Are you good at singing?”

“Ouch. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t tell you now.”

“This is really an important question. Because if you play guitar, that’s one bonus point, but if you sing, and sing well? That’s like, fifty bonus points.”

“Is it now?” Elias responds, his pupils dilating with a look that resembles hunger.

“It is.”

Elias just shakes his head. “I play at a bar downtown, so I must do all right if they’re willing to throw some cash my way.”

This pleases me. “Would you play for me sometime?”

“Come home with me tonight, and I will.”

Thinking about ending up at his place tonight has me nervous all over again. I’m not quite sure I’m ready for that. His hand tenses in mine so I look him in the eyes.

“I won’t hurt you.” His sincerity radiates off him. From his eyes to his posture, I feel it washing over me in droves. I allow myself to relax.

“I know.”

“I want to know something. What happened between you and your ex?” His eyes are tender but imploring. It does nothing to put me at ease.

My body instantly seizes again. It appears like he genuinely cares. But how do I answer that? My chest constricts. Talking about my past relationship is not where I wanted this conversation to go. I try to pull my hand back to my lap, but he clings to it tighter. “Please, I can’t talk about this.”

“It’s only fair, isn’t it? You used me to deter him the other night. I think I deserve an explanation.”

I try to hide my face by looking away, but it’s a failed attempt.

“Look at me, Marlee,” he commands, and I do. The sound of his voice pulls at something deep within me. An internal need to please. “You’re too beautiful to carry around that pain. I see it, you know. In your eyes, behind your smile. You think you’re hiding it, but you’re not.” He pauses, looking me deeply in the eyes, holding my gaze and punctuating his words with the depth of his stare. “I noticed it the first day I laid eyes on you. Almost as if you were afraid I’d embarrass you for running into me. You’re insecure, and I have a strong feeling that idiot made you that