Until December (Until Her/Him #8)(25)

“Yeah.” He puts the key in the ignition and starts the engine, looking over at me. “But you contemplating how you’d do that gave me an excuse to touch you, and since you walked out of your room in that dress, my hands have been itchy.”

“What does that mean?” I ask, even though I’m pretty sure I already know the answer.

He turns fully to face me, and the heat I see in his gaze causes tingles of desire to light me up from the roots of my hair down to the tips of my toes. “Means I’m gonna find any reason I can to touch you tonight.”

Breathe! my mind screams as my lips part to form a soft O.

His eyes, now on my mouth, lift to meet mine, and he whispers, “Yeah.” With no response from me, he places his hand on the headrest of my seat and carefully backs out of his parking spot then puts the engine in drive.

I clutch my purse in my lap with both hands as he drives out of my apartment complex, willing my heart to slow down. “Where are we going?”

“Dinner,” he answers simply, and I want to roll my eyes.

“I know that, but where?”

“It’s a surprise.”

I don’t know if I can handle any more surprises from him tonight. The flowers he brought me were a shock, especially after admitting he didn’t just bring me a store bought bouquet of flowers he picked at random. No, instead, he went out of his way to find out my favorite. Then his compliments and admitting he wanted to touch me have pushed me over my limit.

“Can I have a hint?”

“It’s hot.”

“Do you mean spicy?” I ask, and I see his lips twitch like something is funny. “What?”

“Do you not like surprises?”

I think about it for a second, then answer honestly, “Not really.”

“That’s a surprise.”

“Why do you say that?” I ask, adjusting in the seat.

“You read, and judging by the number of books you own, it’s a lot. I doubt you go into each book wanting to read it because you know how it’s going to end.”

Darn, he has a point. Still, he’s also kinda wrong. “When I’m reading and get to a point in a book that makes me nervous about how things will turn out, I skip to the end just to make sure everything ends up okay.”

“Really?” He glances at me.

“Really. In my mind, I can’t move on with the book if I don’t know there is a happily ever after coming.”

“That doesn’t ruin the story for you?”

“No, it’s kind of like biting into a sandwich. The bread tastes good, but the meat, cheese, mayo, and mustard is what make it delicious. I never read much of the ending, just enough to feel good about what I’m going to get before I continue on.”

“Oddly, I get that.”

“You do?” I ask, knowing I sound as surprised as I am.

“I do, but still, I like being surprised.” He stops at a red light and turns to smile at me. “Imagine thinking you grabbed the same sandwich you’ve eaten every day, but then you bite into it and realize it’s actually something you’ve never had and better than anything you’ve ever tasted.”

“But what if it’s not?” I ask, holding his stare. “What if it’s gross and you have to toss it in the garbage and feel hungry for the rest of the day, because you didn’t stick to what you know?”

“That’s life.” He looks away when the light turns green. “We can plan all we want, but at the end of the day, some things are out of our hands. One day, you might feel like you’ve got it all figured out, and then the next day comes and something unexpected happens, knocking you down or shoving you forward.”

“That’s kind of deep for sandwich talk,” I say, half joking and half serious, his words resonating with a part of me I’m still trying to figure out. A part of me that wants to be brave and take chances.

“You’re right, so we should go eat,” he replies, and I notice then that we’re pulling into a parking lot that is packed full of cars.

It takes me a couple of seconds to figure out where we are, and when I do, I shake my head. “It’s hot,” I repeat his earlier clue, and he grins as he rolls into an empty space and shuts down the engine.

“Surprised?” He turns toward me after putting the engine in Park and shutting it off.

“Very.” Flame has been the talk of the town since it opened, and everything said about it has been good, which is why you need to call months ahead for a reservation. Or at least that’s what my dad said when he mentioned wanting to bring my mom. How did he get us a table?

“I know the owner,” he answers my unspoken question, and I raise one brow. “I’ve done some work for him.”

“Tattoos?” I ask, and he shakes his head.

“No. Besides Flame, Mack, the owner of this place, has an online luxury car dealership. He made his money by purchasing vehicles from auctions for less than market value and then fixing them up and selling them online for less than what they are worth but more than what he paid. I’m one of the mechanics he uses to make whatever repairs are needed on his vehicles before they go up for sale.”

“That’s smart.”

“Yeah,” he agrees then asks, “Are you ready to go inside?”