The Dating Proposal(36)

23





Chris





There are certain rules you don’t break as a man.

Don’t stare at another dude’s junk while he’s taking a piss.

Don’t carry a murse.

And don’t interrupt a girls’ night out.

Unless you want to face down a den of lionesses.

But sometimes, you say screw the rules. I’ve battled zombies and artillery-spewing soldiers on a death mission. Hell, I’ve defeated piranha plants and moonsnakes and beat the game.

I know the way to a woman at a time like this is through her friends, so I address them first. “My apologies for barging in on the sanctity of a girls’ night, but I can’t let another guy have the chance to go on a date with this fantastic woman before I do.”

McKenna clasps her hand to her mouth, and I feel like a king.

I meet her eyes, loving the way they spark with delight, with happiness. “I don’t have a clue where this thing between us is going, but I can’t stand the thought of you going to a coffee or cheese or wine or sewing or shampooing or how-to-install-a-shower-door class and meeting some other guy. If you and I dated, I’d make sure you wanted to do all that with me and only me. How does that sound to you?”

Her smile is the stuff of dating legends. “I totally want to take a how-to-install-a-shower-door class with you.”

When she jumps to her feet, grabs my face, and plants a searing kiss on my lips, I upgrade my status to Rock Star. The kiss short-circuits my brain and fries wires I didn’t know were running through my head, charging me up.

McKenna breaks the contact, smiling like that’s all she wanted to hear from me, and hell, I’m grinning too.

Her friends cheer us on, and they're beaming too. And it’s as if I threw a game-winning touchdown. I’m on top of the world. “I should have done that at the taco shop,” I tell her.

“I should have said something too,” she says. “And for the record, I never kissed any of those guys. Nothing ever happened with any of them. And I didn’t want to meet anyone tonight. After you kissed me, I had no interest in going out and trying to meet a guy at a bar.”

My lips curve up in a grin. Pride suffuses me. “Is that so? I ruined you for other kisses?”

“Yes,” she says with an over-the-top pout. “And the whole time I was out with the guy from coffee class, I was the worst date ever.”

I loop a hand around her waist, yanking her close, glad that I can. “Why’s that?”

“I was thinking about you and that epic kiss. And how I wanted to do that with you again. I was officially no fun as a date.”

And now I’m simply a happy guy because that’s music to my ears. “Good. I’d like to ruin you in other ways though.”

A throat clears.

Or maybe a few do.

Feet shuffle and heels click, and three lovely ladies stand and make their excuses. “I can see we aren’t needed,” says the redhead.

“Glad you came to your senses,” the tall brunette says.

“Happy banging,” remarks the spiky-haired woman.

I like that hello and goodbye best.

“You guys don’t have to go,” McKenna says to her pack.

“Yes, we do,” the redhead insists.

“Wait. Let me introduce you first.”

McKenna makes quick introductions to Julia, Hayden, and Erin, and then they scurry out of The Tiki Bar, and she pulls me down next to her in the booth.

“You sure they’re okay with this? Me crashing your night out?”

Her smile is full-wattage. “They’re more than okay with it. But how did you find me?”

“I had a tracker put on your ankle,” I deadpan.

She glances down at her foot, and then extends one very sexy leg across my thighs. “Is that so?” she says in a purr.

Damn. She’s delicious. I take advantage of this new thing between us—I don’t know what else to call it—and run my hand over her silky skin. “It’s right here,” I say, circling my fingers around her ankle, which looks outrageously hot in that black, red-soled shoe. I know fuck-all about fashion, but I know one thing—red-soled shoes are sex in heel form.

“Seriously,” she demands. “How did you find me so you could go all caveman and demanding?”

“I think you like the caveman in me.” I loop a hand around her waist and haul her in for another kiss, hard on the lips.

When we separate, she rolls her eyes. “Duh. Yeah.”

“The other day when you mentioned the girls’ night out, you told me you were going to The Tiki Bar. That’s how I found you. As to the why, I went surfing this afternoon, got clobbered by the Pacific a couple of times. And then I got pissed that I hadn’t manned up and told you I wanted to see you, so I decided to stop playing games. I tried calling, but you didn’t answer, and at that point, I was a man on a mission.”

She hums sexily. “I’m your mission?”

“Yeah, I think you are,” I say, and maybe there’s a part of me that’s terrified of turbulence again, that’s scared of rocking the boat at work, but another part wants to believe we can figure this out. I don’t know how, but I like this woman too damn much not to try.