One Funeral (No Weddings #2)(6)

When our meals arrived, we ate in companionable silence. Cade moaned with every bite of his filet, while I tried not to laugh around bites of rainbow trout. “You know this sauce is garlic and olive oil.”

He arched a brow. “Are you warding me off from kissing you later?”

I laughed. “Would that even work?”

“No.” He cut a piece of his meat, then glanced up at me. “I like garlic.”

“Only garlic?”

He put his knife and fork down and looked at me thoughtfully. “I like chocolate. And caramel. And honey…” His tone held unmistakable erotic undertones, and his eyes darkened, glittering with heat.

I shuddered as a bolt of lightning shot between my legs. With a deep breath, I thought about his sudden naughty condiment fetish. “Am I going to have to clean out my pantry?”

“Do it. See how long your shelves remain empty.” His eyes narrowed.

A never-emptying shelf—I’d toss them, he’d replace them. Erotic toppings and sauces would be there, whether I wanted them there or not. And they would tempt me.

“You are ruining condiments for me.”

Cade laughed, a rich booming sound that warmed me deep inside my belly. “You’ve got it backward, Maestro. I intend to ruin you for all other foods. And any other lovers.”

My mood sank at his mention of other lovers. Even though he’d meant that he intended to be the only one ever, intentions didn’t guarantee a future. Then my trolling mind took over and anxiety began to build, no matter how hard I tried to stifle it.

When my knee started bouncing again, I forced my thoughts to a naked, cupcake-covered Cade. But it didn’t work this time. I wondered if it was because he wasn’t aware of my distress, wasn’t helping to guide me through it.

Before I could decide on whether or not to voice my concern, the waiter brought dessert. I stared down at a plate of assorted berries drizzled with dark chocolate.

I tried to think of something to say, but nothing formed in my mind. Cade remained quiet as well, only this stretch of silence didn’t feel comfortable. It wasn’t anywhere near companionable. The mood between us had become stark and tense.

I glanced up when he stilled completely. He stared at me with knowing eyes.

“Cade, I’m…” What? Screwed up beyond repair? Unable to function normally on a date?

“It’s okay, Hannah. This one date isn’t an omen. It’s dinner. Look at it as your rite of passage.”

I rolled my eyes. “How romantic.”

He laughed. “It doesn’t have to be romantic. First dates seldom are. I brought you to a nice place because you’re important to me, and I wanted to show that to you. Besides, you have the discerning palate of a trained chef. It’s not like I could’ve brought you to The Belching Burger.”

I huffed out a dry laugh. “There’s actually a place called that?”

“No. But there should be. It has a certain ring to it, don’t you think?” Amusement glittered in his eyes.

As we ate our desserts, his expression grew pensive. The conversation had stalled yet again, the tension thickening between us.

I put my fork down on a sigh. “I’ve ruined our first date.”

“You didn’t ruin it.”

“Yes, I did.” I crossed my arms. “Last night, we had this amazing kiss. Amazing.”

One corner of his mouth curved up. “Not disagreeing.”

“But tonight, I’m stuck in my head.”

“So get out of it.”

I blinked at him. If only it was that easy.

He sat back, assessing me. Then he leaned forward, sliding his hands toward the center of the table. “Look, we had a lot of buildup to that kiss.”

I blew out a breath through pursed lips, remembering our endless teasing. “Yeah, we did.”

“And it’s only been five days since we torched the shit from our past in that bonfire. Maybe you need more time.”

I shrugged, my gaze falling toward the tablecloth. “I suppose. How much time does it take to prevent a disastrous date?”

“Hannah, look at me.”

I met his penetrating stare.

“This date is not a disaster.”

“It is if I’m not able to forget everything else and enjoy being with you.” Disaster.

“You’re not enjoying being with me? I’m so damn grateful to be here with you, even if the time spent is with us working through our shit.”

I gave him a hard look. “Yes. I’m enjoying being here with you. It’s the ‘forget everything else’ part I wish would suddenly happen.”

He smiled. “So not a total disaster.”

“Okay, I concede. Only a semi-disaster. But I was hoping for fireworks.”

“We have enough pent-up energy to power a Fourth of July display. After last night, I have no doubt there will be plenty of fireworks.” He tilted his head. “Maybe we need more than time. That bonfire was a kind of therapy, but have you ever considered actual therapy?”

Confused, I furrowed my brow. “Actual therapy?”

“Professional therapy.” He forked another giant bite of his New York cheesecake, then stuck it into his mouth and chewed it enough to continue. “You know, a qualified individual who gives you a game plan to get out of your head and into the moment. So you can enjoy life as it happens, instead of missing it entirely.” He leaned forward, whispering, “I’ve heard they have pills for knee bouncing.”