The Do-Over (The Miles High Club #4)(71)
His eyes hold mine, his chin leaning on his hand as he smiles dreamily over at me. “You’re my favorite.”
I nervously sip my drink, not sure how to reply. “What are we eating?”
“I know what I’m eating.” His dark eyes hold mine.
Fuck.
“I mean food.”
He raises an eyebrow as if unimpressed and sips his drink. “I don’t know, we’ll just go for a walk, I guess. I didn’t even know the names of any restaurants around here.”
“Okay.” I pick up my drink and take a sip. “Hmm, heaven in a cup.” I smile.
“I had a particularly large margarita night when I went home in your honor.”
“You did?”
“Elliot and I got margarooted.”
I giggle. “Margarooted?”
“Uh-huh.”
“Tell me about Elliot.” I smile. “You two seem to be close.”
“Hmm, actually”—he thinks for a moment—“he’s a lot like you.”
“How so?”
“He’s a tragic romantic, grumpy. Reliable and loyal.”
I smile. “He is?”
“Uh-huh.”
“And you have three brothers?”
“I do. Jameson is the oldest, Tristan is next, and Elliot, and then me.”
“You’re the youngest child?”
He nods.
“Are you all alike?”
“No.” He shakes his head. “Opposites. Jameson is driven and grouchy. Tristan and I are very much alike. We even look alike. I guess Elliot is a good mix of the three of us combined.”
I smile. I love hearing about his family.
“What about you?” he asks.
“I’m an only child.”
His face falls. “An only child?”
“My mom hemorrhaged during childbirth with me and, to save her life, ended up having a complete hysterectomy. There were no other children after me.”
“Oh.” He listens intently. “How was that, growing up without siblings?” He frowns. “I can’t imagine it.”
“I don’t know any different.” I shrug. “So.”
He nods as he listens intently.
We fall silent and sip our drinks. There’s an elephant in the room that we are both avoiding talking about.
I don’t want to be the one who brings it up. He needs to.
“Germany this week, huh?” I smile.
“Yeah.” He nods. “Or we could stay here for a while longer. There’s a bartending course I wouldn’t mind doing. I already inquired about it, and there’s a vacant position next week.”
“Really?” I frown, surprised. “You want to be a bartender?”
“Well . . .” He shrugs. “I’ve been thinking about what I could do for the next nine months, and there are only really two things I’m interested in.”
“What are they?”
“Being your PA and making cocktails.”
“My PA?” I frown.
“Pussy attendant.”
I giggle. “Oh, I do like the sound of that.”
“Do you pay bonuses?” he asks.
“I pay in orgasms.”
He chuckles and taps his glass with mine. “My favorite currency.”
“Okay.” I shrug. “Do the bartending course and then we’ll go, I guess.”
“Deal.” He smiles. He runs his hand up my thigh under the table, and I sip my drink. Is he going to bring up anything at all about why he left?
We fall silent again.
“What else did you do while you were home?” I ask. “You said you had to sign something.”
“Yeah, I did.” He shrugs. “That and had a near mental breakdown.”
“About what?”
“You.”
My eyes search his. “Why did you leave?”
“I panicked.”
“About what?” I whisper as I put my hand over his on my thigh. “Why? It’s just me.”
“Just you is . . . a lot.”
My face falls. “What does that mean?”
“Nothing.” He sips his drink as if trying to think of the right thing to say. “I’ve never . . .” He exhales heavily, lost for words.
“Christopher,” I prompt him, “you can talk to me. We are friends before anything else.”
His eyes search mine. “You’re the first girl I’ve ever wanted more with.”
I lean in and kiss him softly.
“You’re the first girl that I’ve ever been loyal to.”
“We only just got together.”
“I haven’t been with anyone for a few months.”
What?
My heart flips . . . he’s doing it without me asking.
It’s all falling into place.
He shrugs. “I couldn’t . . . and I . . . I don’t want to screw this up.”
I smile over at my beautiful man. “You won’t.” I kiss him again.
“How do you know?” he asks.
“Because as long as we’re communicating openly, you can’t screw things up.”
He stares at me.