Dylan reached down and tipped up her chin. “You’re a good person, Tilly King.”
She blushed. “Not always.”
“Hmm, tell me more,” he replied with a wink that made her smile. “I’d love to hear all about this bad side of yours.”
She shook her head.
He brushed a dark strand of hair behind her ear. “Come on, gorgeous, let’s get you home.”
Her face grew pensive.
“What did I say?” he asked, truly confused. Usually, he was pretty good at reading people, but that was twice now that she’d appeared to be hurt by something he said and he had no idea what it was.
“Nothing,” she said, glancing out at the dance floor.
This wasn’t the place for a conversation. Placing his arm around her waist, he steered her through the bar until they were outside. Pausing briefly to wrap her shawl around her, he led her over to where he’d parked his truck. She was so petite that he had to help her up into the seat. Not that he was complaining. It gave him a great view of her amazing ass.
“I’d need a step stool to drive this thing,” she said as he climbed in the driver’s seat.
“You’ve just got some growing to do.”
She snorted. “The only growing I ever do is out, not up. My father and brothers are all well over six feet tall. I take after my mom.”
Dylan climbed in the driver’s side and started up his truck, heading towards her place. “Want to tell me what I said in there to hurt you?”
Tilly gazed out the window. Her shoulders were tense, her hands clasped tightly in her lap.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Tilly, don’t lie to me,” he said in a low voice. He didn’t want to be too firm with her, but he wanted to let her know that lying was not an option. Neither was not answering.
She sighed. “I just thought the evening was going well. After we left that stuffy restaurant, that is.”
What was he missing? “So did I.”
“Oh, well then, why…” she trailed off, waving her hand around the truck.
“Why what? Oh, why did I suggest we go home?”
She nodded, still not looking at him. Dylan pulled off the road and parked the truck. Leaning over, he undid her seatbelt then pulled her along the bench seat. A streetlamp provided him with enough light to see her as he tipped her chin up.
“I didn’t suggest that we should head home because I wanted this night to end. On the contrary, I’d love to spend tonight and every other night with you, but I don’t think you’re ready for that just yet.” He ran his thumb over her cheek. “You’re tired, sweetheart. You look like you could collapse into bed and sleep for a week. What kind of man would I be to keep you up dancing and drinking all night when you’re exhausted?”
“Oh,” she said. She stared at him in consternation. “I’m sorry.”
He moved his thumb down over her lips. “Nothing to be sorry for. I had a great time tonight.”
“Me too,” she whispered. “I was worried you had given up.”
“Given up?”
“You know, asking me out. You went six weeks before you asked me out this last time. I was worried you’d given up on me. That you weren’t going to ask again.”
He could see how his plan to take things slow could easily have been interpreted as him growing disinterested. He needed to rid her of that thought immediately.
“I didn’t want to scare you off,” he told her, cupping her face with one hand. “I figured you needed me to slow down and I was willing to wait until you were ready. Now, though, I know you’re just as attracted to me as I am to you.” He took her mouth in a deeper kiss, playing with her, teasing them both until their heavy breathing fogged the windows. With a laugh, he started the truck and turned on the defogger.
“Put the lap belt on, babe. I want you close to me.” She put the belt over her lap and snuggled in against him as he moved out onto the road again.