Page 15 of Tricia’s Manster

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I’m starting to suspect Dr. Matt Smyth must have a book of smooth lines to get women to fall for him.

I’m not immune.

I positively melt like a marshmallow into a puddle of happy goo. “Breakfast sounds wonderful,” I breathe, a big sappy grin on my face.

“Anything you don’t like? I’ll pick you up at your work around seven?”

Well, I don’t really like getting up that early in the morning, but I’ll keep that bit of information to myself. “I hate tofu and cauliflower anything.”

“I’ll keep that in mind.” He leans in and gives me a far too brief kiss. “Until tomorrow, Tricia,” he says, releasing me and taking a step back.

CHAPTER EIGHT

MATT

Our first date had a rocky start, though the rest of the evening went well. I’m determined that our breakfast together will go perfectly. Which means I’m up at five to ensure everything is ready when I go to the clinic to meet Tricia. Sadly, I can’t control the weather and squint up at the gray clouds moving at a fast pace across the weak, struggling sunlight that’s trying in vain to chase away the darkness.

At the sight of Tricia’s tan sedan, my heartbeat picks up, the weather forgotten. I’m out of the SUV before she’s even pulled into the parking spot next to me.

In jeans and a plain pink t-shirt, her long blonde hair pulled away from her face in a messy braid, she looks fresh and achingly beautiful. Wanting things to be perfect for her makes sense, as at this moment I would happily give her the world if she but asked.

My ex accused me of not being romantic and it was only later that I realized we were both distant and almost clinical in our interactions, but I was merely following her lead. Somehow, our professional personas carried over into our personal relationship, which wasn’t how a marriage was supposed to be.

I’m no longer with my ex. Now I’m free to be as spontaneous and romantic as I want. The key is that I want to be that way with Tricia.

Grasping her face between my hands, I almost shudder at the softness of her skin against my palms. That softness is nothing compared to her lips, which I lay claim to, moving my mouth with a building hunger.

Her arms twist around my waist, her breasts pressing into my chest, and the sweet smell of her wraps around me. With a groan, I slip my tongue between her parted lips, tasting the crisp mint of her toothpaste and a faint hint of something that is uniquely her. Pure need rocks through me, my cock hardening and throbbing within the tight confines of my dark dress slacks.

When her lips leave mine, it takes me a dazed moment to come back to myself and open my eyes to her smiling face. “Hi.”

“Yes, hello there,” I say, wanting nothing more than to kiss her again. A wiggle of reality intrudes, reminding me I have a full day with responsibilities that I can’t skirt, no matter how much I’m tempted to. “Ready for breakfast?”

“Absolutely,” she says, unwinding her arms from around me.

“There’s a small park less than five minutes from here. I thought we could have our meal there. I promise to have you back here in time for work.”

Her nose scrunches up as she laughs. “I would hope so. I don’t have work until eleven today.”

My mind blanks for a moment. “Why did you agree to meet me so early?”

Tricia’s smile flashes bright and sunny on this overcast day. “Because I couldn’t wait to see you again either.”

The honest sincerity of her words humbles me and it’s all I can do not to sweep her into my arms and say to hell with being a responsible adult.

Before I can do anything brash, Tricia’s hand on my chest lifts. “Let’s get going. I’m starving.”

True to my word, the park is but a few minutes away and soon I have the red checked flannel blanket spread out on a bit of dry grass overlooking a scenic pond.

Orange juice, biscuits stuffed with eggs, peppers, and cheese, and a container of fruit complete our breakfast. I sit watching Tricia dig in and just enjoy being here in this moment with her. Peace and happiness make me feel lighter than I have in a long time, and I savor it as much as I do the flakey, buttery biscuits.

“This is so good!” she enthuses. “I thought you said you couldn’t cook.”

“Oh, I can throw a few things together to survive. This I can’t take credit for other than placing the order and picking it up.”

“I’d ask where, but if I ate like this daily, I’d fall asleep in the middle of a massage. This is nice, thank you.”

“Thank you,” I say softly.


Tags: Lisa Freed Paranormal