Total pages in book: 18
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 15998 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 80(@200wpm)___ 64(@250wpm)___ 53(@300wpm)
I cut him off with a swift kiss before he could ramble himself into more doubt. “Not too soon at all. I feel the same way. Like this was somehow destined. Like I’ve been waiting for your return.”
“Yes.” Smiling broadly, he was the one to initiate the next kiss, which lingered, going from sweet affirmation to sexy promise. I would have happily kept going until our flashlight batteries ran out right there at the base of the trail, but Tennessee shivered.
“Some boyfriend I am if I let you freeze before dinner.” Chuckling, I pointed at my truck, flicking my key fob for remote start. “Into the truck with you.”
“There’s dinner?” he asked as he climbed into the passenger side.
“It’s Valentine’s Day. Of course there’s dinner.” I gave him a pointed look. I might not have that much personal experience with long-term relationships, but I’d watched my parents and other happy couples over the years. I wanted to make Tennessee feel valued and treasured, not only on holidays. “But you have to guess where I made reservations for us.”
“Reservations?” Tennessee’s expression turned befuddled. Understandable. Mount Hope was small enough that few places even took reservations. “Tell me you didn’t make your mother cook on Valentine’s Day.”
That earned a huge belly laugh from both of us as I cranked the truck’s heater. Tennessee had always loved her cooking and had proclaimed hers the best food in Mount Hope more than a few times.
“I thought about it,” I admitted. Tennessee’s love of her fried rice dishes and barbecue chicken was almost enough to have had me making the call. “My dad’s taking her out for Japanese steak, but she would have happily cooked for us. She’s going to be delighted we’re dating.”
I was more or less assuming that Tennessee’s lack of argument and repeated kisses meant he was on board with my plans, but I was still relieved when he nodded. “You think so?”
“Me with a boyfriend? Winning. Me with a boyfriend who happens to be you? She’ll be dancing down the aisles at church and calling wedding planners.”
Tennessee made a strangled noise as he blinked a few times.
“Breathe.” I patted his thigh with my hand, flexing my fingers against my cast. “No one’s proposing. Yet.”
“Yet.” Eyes wider than fried eggs, he swallowed hard but didn’t break eye contact.
“Yet,” I assured him with a huge grin. Removing my hand, I put the truck in Drive. “Now come on, keep guessing about dinner.”
Mouth twisting, Tennessee thought for several long seconds as I headed into town. Deciding to give him a clue, I hummed a line from an oldie I knew he’d recognize.
“No way.” He smiled slowly, head tilting. “Pinball Pizza? Is that place even still open?”
“Yup.” I beamed at him. The seventies-era pizza place had been largely untouched during our childhood—plastic chairs, scarred wooden tables, lots of ancient video games lining the walls, and mediocre pizza heavy on traditional favorites like pepperoni. We’d loved it. Tennessee’s family never ate out, but my mom had always made sure to include him in our celebrations there.
“And they take reservations?” His tone was understandably skeptical.
“They’ve remodeled. Gone upscale like the rest of downtown. We probably could get a table without reservations, but they are pretty popular these days. New ownership with a liquor license. New menu too, with gourmet toppings and a wood-fired crust. Refurbished game machines, but same building. Same name.”
“Same us.” Tennessee gave a happy sigh.
“Same us,” I agreed. Pausing for a stop sign near town, I met his gaze. “New start?”
“Yeah.” He nodded, voice sounding decidedly dazed. “This is turning out to be some date.”
“We haven’t even gotten to the good part yet.” I waggled my eyebrows at him.
“Oh.” His mouth made a perfect circle, pale skin looking even more so.
“Chocolate, Tennessee. Chocolate.” I pitched my voice soothingly. I’d already figured out that Tennessee wasn’t the hookup type and likely had far less experience than he’d admit. “There’s a candy store near the pizza place, and I picked up some truffles for dessert. I’m not expecting sex, promise. We can take things slow.”
“Hmmm.” He considered this for a few more blocks. “What if I don’t want slow?”
“Then we can take it fast but make it last.” I beamed at him. “We can set whatever pace you want.”
“We want. Our pace.” He exhaled hard. “I think I like the hurry-up-but-make-it-count plan. I’m not feeling all that patient.”
“Me either.” Chuckling, I gave him a heated look. “How fast can you eat pizza one-handed?”
“Very.”
Chapter Seven
Tennessee
I’d never scarfed down pizza as fast as I did that Valentine’s Day with Tate. The special was a delightful heart-shaped pie with a chicken, fig, arugula, and balsamic topping. A far cry from the pepperoni and pasteurized mozzarella of our youth, but I doubted either of us fully appreciated the pizza or the ambiance. The remodeled space was fun with lots of classic pinball and video games, but the only playing I was interested in was more kissing with Tate.