“As much as I’d like to stand here and chat, I’ve really got to go,” I told him, already walking away.
He was quick to catch up to me, falling into step beside me. “We can walk and talk.”
“What do you want to talk about?” I adjusted the strap of my purse on my shoulder.
“How about we figure out where we’re going on our first official date?” He suggested, jogging in front of me and turning around to face me as he walked backwards.
“Surprise me,” I rolled my eyes as he began to balance on the edge of the sidewalk.
“Hmm,” he did a little hop, coming back to my side and throwing an arm over my shoulders, “I do love surprises. Whatever will I come up with?”
“Nothing too crazy, please?” I begged. “And don’t drag me to another state. I do have to be home.”
“I think I can come up with something in those parameters,” he chuckled, reaching for my hand.
I skidded out of the way and pretended to be messing with my hair.
Trenton raised a brow in puzzlement. “You don’t want me to hold your hand,” he stated.
I swallowed thickly and nodded. There was no sense in denying it. I found there to be something oddly intimate about holding a person’s hand, you were connected, twined together…and that scared me.
“Why?” He questioned.
“I don’t know,” I lied, starting forward. The parking lot was in sight and I could make my escape from this uncomfortable conversation. “I just don’t.”
“Oookay,” Trent drew out the word, his legs carrying him quickly back to my side, “no hand-holding. I’m still allowed to kiss you though, right?”
“Since when do you ask for permission?” I sighed, stopping beside my car.
“Good point,” he whispered gruffly, stepping so close to me that our bodies lined up. He cupped the nape of my neck in one of his large hands and drew my face towards his. “This is me not asking for permission.”
My eyes closed at the first touch of his soft lips. My body melted against him and I grasped his forearms for support. I had always prided myself on having little to no reaction to the things surrounding me, I was closed off and proud of it, but Trent managed to make me feel. He barreled right through the cinderblock walls I’d built around myself. He’d never get my heart, that was too well guarded, but I knew he’d try.
I forced myself to stop thinking so much and enjoy the feel of being in his arms. He backed me up against the car, towering above me. I wasn’t short, but in Trenton’s arms I felt small and dainty. His strong arms wrappe
d around me, protecting me from the cool wind.
I kissed him back with fervor. If I was doing this, whatever this was, I was certainly going to enjoy myself.
My skin began to feel heated and I forced myself to pull away. He rested his forehead against mine and we both breathed like we’d run a marathon. “I really have to go,” I told him reluctantly. For a moment, while he’d been kissing me, I’d forgotten everything I was. I’d just been a girl—Rowan Sinclair. I didn’t have all these strings tying me down. The moment his lips lifted from mine though, reality came crashing back down. I wasn’t a normal girl. I couldn’t hang out with friends and spend time with my boyfriend—if you could even call Trent my boyfriend. I had children depending on me and a future to think about. I hated it. I wanted nothing more than to stay here in his arms in this warm bubble he’d created, but I couldn’t.
“Not yet,” he breathed. “Please, not yet.”
“I have to,” I stared up at his handsome face.
He nodded and took a step back. “What are your plans for tomorrow?”
“Uh…” I paused, thinking. The kids were home from school and I had to work in the evening, so I had been planning to spend time with them. “I’m busy.”
“What about the next day?”
“That’s Thanksgiving,” I sighed. This thing between us, it was going to be impossible. I could see that, and yet I wasn’t leaving, or telling him that it wouldn’t work out. Clearly, there was something wrong with me. I think maybe I was becoming a masochist.
“Friday, then?”
I bit my lip, thinking it over. I didn’t have anything I had to do, but I’d have to find someone to watch the kids—I wasn’t leaving them alone with my drunk mother.
“Friday should work,” I nodded.