She licks her lips, and it’s everything I can do not to lean in and kiss her right here, right now. We haven’t even started our date and I’m already desperate to reach the end of it so I can make good on the promise I made to her yesterday.
Because yet again, with a handful of words and one touch of her hand, Kat has erased my nerves and made me feel like the luckiest guy on the fucking planet.
When I open the door for her, she looks up at me with a smile. “Such a gentleman,” she teases as she slides into her seat.
“You know what they say about gentlemen,” I say with a waggle of my eyebrows, leaning in slightly.
“What?” she asks.
I drop my voice down low, hoping for an over-the-top seductive tone. “Gentleman in the streets, bad boy in the sheets.”
Her laughter fills the air as I go around to the driver’s side, climb in, and buckle up.
“Are you planning on being a bad boy or a gentleman tonight?” Kat asks coyly and my hands grip the steering wheel tightly so I don’t do something stupid like touch her. I shift in my seat to face her and the attraction I’m positive is written all over my damn face is reflected back at me.
Holy hell. She wants this, too. I school my reaction before giving her a subtle wink.
“Gentleman, of course. You deserve nothing less for ourfirstdate.”
Dinner starts out fine. We laugh over calamari and share childhood stories over souvlaki.
Then it’s time for dessert.
“I’m so full, but I absolutely love baklava. Want to share one with me?” The smile on Kat’s face would make me say yes to anything, even if I am totally stuffed.
“Sure.”
“Do you mind ordering while I just go…” She nods her head toward the bathroom and I nod hurriedly.
“Of course. No problem.”
Except when the waiter comes to take our order, I realize I can’t remember what she said. Bah something?
It gets worse when I open the dessert menu and the page swims with unfamiliar Greek words. In the dim light, it’s even harder to read. The waiter’s looking at me expectantly and my chest is tightening with the pressure. I point blindly at something that starts with a “b” and hope I guessed right.
But when it arrives, Kat looks at it quizzically. “That’s an odd looking baklava. Interesting.” She picks up a bite on her fork and some sort of creamy filling oozes out. She makes a face and my heart plummets. “Oh, that’s not baklava, that’s why.”
Shitfuckdamnit.I must have pointed to the wrong thing on the menu. Fuck. I should have listened closer to what she said so I could’ve just said it back to the waiter. I’m such a screwup.
“Fuck. It’s my fault, I couldn’t remember what you said. I’m so sorry. I’ll get them back and order the right one.”
“No, it’s okay, Hunter. We don’t need dessert. No big deal.”
“It is a big deal. I screwed up.” I start looking around for the waiter, determined to make this right.
“Hunter, stop.”
There’s a firmness in her voice that leaves no room for argument. I slowly turn to face her.
“It’s just dessert. You didn’t screw anything up.” The warmth in her quiet words washes over me, replacing my self-criticism with relief.
I lean back in my chair and run my hand through my hair. How does she manage to put me at ease better than anyone else in my life ever has? She has no idea that just by being her, she builds me up and makes me feel like a better man.
“I just want tonight to be perfect for you,” I say, letting a sliver of vulnerability show.
Kat lays her hand out on the table, palm up, and I cover it with my own. That simple touch grounds me and connects us.
“Perfect is overrated. I’m having a good time, Hunter. The food was delicious and the company is wonderful. And I’ve wanted to go on a date with you for a really,reallylong time. The wrong dessert doesn’t change any of that, so stop apologizing.”