“Stay.”
That damn word will be the ruin of me. I said it on the balcony at the Halloween party and could barely concentrate for a week after our conversation.
She pauses, one high-heeled foot on the stone step, the other on the ground, and looks back at me. She really is breathtaking. It kind of sneaks up on you. You think at first she’s merely pretty, but up close, midnight lurks in her velvety brown eyes and someone thought it was okay to dust a few freckles into the rich caramel of her skin.
That was not okay.
Those freckles pose a threat to my sanity and make me want to lick them, find out if they taste like cinnamon. Find out once and for damn all how she tastes.
“Are you sure?” she asks, her expression as uncertain as her words.
“Yeah.” I shrug, like this isn’t exactly the kind of situation I’ve avoided with her. “Why not?”
The hostess leads her to the neighboring gazebo.
“Look, that’s ridiculous,” I say. “What? We gonna sit five feet apart and eat separately?”
I’m playing right into Jill’s schemes, but even I know that would be crazy.
“Canon, I don’t want to—”
“It’s dinner. It’s an hour. I have the rest of the night, hell, the rest of the week to be by myself.” I nod to the empty seat across from me. “Join me if you want.”
The hostess grins like this is the best idea she’s ever heard, and I bet she wrote that damn sign outside. Most romantic restaurant, my ass. After a brief hesitation, Neevah takes the few steps up into my gazebo and settles into the seat across from me, a look of discomfort on her face despite my assurances. The hostess says she’ll give us a few minutes to look over the menus.
And then she leaves us alone.