I’ve thought the same thing since the first time we met. Things were so easygoing between us with no downtime or awkwardness.
Sophie: I feel the same way.
Weston: Can’t wait to see you. :) I’m going to start dinner soon.
Dating and being with a nice guy are all new territory for me. In my past, I’ve dated nothing but douchebags, and I can tell Weston’s different. He’s proven that to me each day we’ve spoken and even more since we met for brunch.
After I get out of the shower, blow-dry my hair, and put on some makeup, I slip on some jeans and a sweater because it’s chilly outside. I check the time and realize I need to get going. Weston offered to pick me up, but I’d much rather drive myself so I can leave when I want to leave, which I doubt will happen. Things are too easy with Weston.
Before I leave, I send a text to let him know I’m on the way, then I call Lennon.
“I’m leaving for my date!” Excitement coats my tone.
“Oh, awesome. Going somewhere special?” She’s talking low, and I’m sure it’s because she doesn’t want to wake Allie.
“To his house. He made dinner, and we’re watching a movie,” I explain, feeling my nerves start to bubble to the surface.
“You’re going to have fun, Soph. I’m excited for you. Let me know how it goes, ’kay?”
We chat about Allie, then I let her go as I turn on Weston’s street. I slow down, searching for his house in a neighborhood that’s cute and cookie cutter enough to raise kids. All have perfectly trimmed lawns and bushes, just a regular suburban neighborhood. The GPS on my phone alerts me I’ve arrived, then I pull into his driveway. His house is adorable, a starter home of sorts, but well taken care of.
When I get out of the car, Weston meets me on the sidewalk with a dishrag in his hand and a smile on his face. As soon as I get close enough to smell his cologne, he wraps his arms around me and pulls me into a hug. I look up into his eyes, and an electric current swirls between us. We’ve spent so much time talking that I feel like I’ve known him for years.
“Dinner is ready. Can’t wait for you to try it out.” He grabs my hand and leads me inside his home. Everything is pristine and clean, and I can’t stop looking around as he guides me to the kitchen where food is waiting on the stovetop.
“Wine?” he asks, and I nod as he pours us both a glass. Weston places generous portions of chicken fettuccine alfredo on two plates with garlic bread. The table is dressed up with candles and a fancy tablecloth. Looking at how much effort he put into tonight causes me to grin as he sets our plates on the table. I sit beside him and can’t stop looking at this gorgeous man over the rim of my glass.
“This is amazing,” I compliment, trying to soak in the moment. I can’t remember the last time a man cooked for me. Hell, I can’t remember the last time anyone has treated me the way Weston does—as if he cares.
“Wait until you taste it.” He winks as I finish my glass of wine.
I pick up my fork, and he waits as I take a bite. The delicious flavors fill my mouth, and I’m almost shocked he cooked this. “Wow.”
It doesn’t take either of us long to clean our plates. The last time I ate was breakfast earlier today, so I was starved. I got so busy I forgot to stop for lunch.
Weston refills our glasses, and he leads me to the living room and hands me the remote. “I’m going to let you choose what we watch.”
He sits on the couch, and I plop down right next to him. Our bodies are so close I can feel the warmth of him against my skin. I click on Bridget Jones’s Diary, then turn and look at him. “This okay?”
“As long as I’m watching it with you, I don’t care what it is.”
I giggle and press play. Weston’s fingers trail on my arm, and though we’re close to one another, it’s not enough. I finish my second glass of wine, and he asks me if I want another, but I refuse. When his eyes meet mine, the urge to kiss him takes over. He stands to gets himself another drink and me a bottle of water, but when he returns and sets his glass down on the table, I pull him closer to me.
Our mouths crash together in a wave of passion and need.
“Soph,” he whispers across my lips as his body hovers over mine. “We should take it slow. I don’t want to rush this with you.”