* * *
I let Gray decide where to eat lunch. He took me to a place in the foothills, nestled in a canyon and beside a fast-moving creek. We ate outside on a patio by the water. It wasn’t fancy, and he’d said the place was famous for their wings. I was the one who’d grown up in the area, and I’d never heard of the place. Gray ordered a bucketful, and we’d discovered we both liked them hot. An extra plate sat between us where we tossed the cleaned bones. Another had celery and carrot sticks and a dish of dressing. It was a really smart choice on Gray’s part. It was slow eating wings, so we were able to linger and talk. Our hands were busy the entire time, which helped to avoid awkward moments. It was also a messy task, and it was hard for me to take anything too seriously when we both had hot sauce all over our fingers and mouths.
It was after three when Gray pulled his truck into an empty spot just down the street from my house.
“I had a really good time. Thank you,” I said.
He turned off the engine. “You’re welcome. I did, too.” He shifted his shoulders to face me. “Do you work this week?”
I nodded. “I work a consistent schedule. Monday, Tuesday and Wednesday, seven to seven. Days.”
“Those are long shifts.”
“They are, but I only work three days a week, which is nice.”
All of a sudden, I started to feel nervous again, the panic and confusion on first-date etiquette clogged my brain. Was I supposed to kiss him as a thank you? I wanted to, boy did I, but I didn’t know how to initiate. It was going to be an awkward kiss because I felt awkward. Did I lean in first? Close my eyes? Did I—
“Would it be all right if I called you?” he asked, breaking into my ridiculous train of thought.
“Oh.” That wasn’t what I’d been expecting. Once again. I figured he’d ask if he could come inside. Every single time I thought one thing, he did the unexpected. “I… I’d like that.”
I licked my lips again, and I couldn’t help but fiddle with the seat belt. I wanted to look anywhere but at him. It would be rude to bolt from the truck, so was I supposed to open my own door? He’d done it for me all the other times today. “Gray—”
“Breathe, Emory.”
This had my gaze whipping up to his.
“What?” I asked, my voice a little high pitched, and I blushed.
“You seem… nervous again.” His dark eyes met mine then drifted to my mouth.
“I am,” I admitted. I gave him a thin smile. “I know your neat-freak secret, so I’ll tell you one of mine.”
He cocked his head to the side slightly. I recognized this as something he did when curious. “Okay. But it’s got to be a good secret. I mean, being a neat freak is pretty hard to top.”
I rolled my eyes, instantly relaxed. “I’m not sure what’s supposed to happen now. I’ve… I’ve never really been on a date before. I know, this was just a coincidence, but still.” I glanced down at my lap then back at him. “I met my ex in college, and we didn’t really date. We skipped a whole bunch of steps for us to get to the one where I got pregnant by mistake. Then married. Then fourteen years later, divorced. Those two awful blind dates I mentioned don't count, so I think this is actually my first real date.”
He looked surprised for a moment, then he smiled. “I really like that I’m your first.”
I looked at him sideways. “It… doesn’t bother you? I mean, I’m pretty much guy inept.”
He reached across the center console and brushed a lock of hair that had escaped my ponytail back from my face, tucked it behind my ear. It seemed to be something he really liked to do, and I didn't mind. At all. I lifted my eyes to meet his as he ran his finger down my cheek. The feeling was exhilarating, the skin he touched tingling in his wake. I really wasn’t breathing now.
“That you’re not a player?” His voice was almost a whisper. “That you’re smart and honest and open and starting your life all over again?”
“Well, yeah.” I sighed because he understood.
Instead of answering my question, he asked, “Do you know what happens now?” He dropped his hand. “At the end of a date?”
“I thought this wasn’t a date.”
“Right, a coincidence,” he said, the corner of his mouth tipping up. “Let’s pretend it was a date then. Do you know what happens?”
The truck seemed very small all of a sudden. “Well, I have some ideas.” I lowered my eyes to his mouth.
“Such as…” His dark voice trailed off.
“My single friends always talk about kissing or asking a guy inside, or they talk about their one-night stands and even their walks of shame.”