Arm Candy (Real Love #2)(46)
“How about that?” Davis asks as we pull our napkins into our laps. “You’re dressed perfectly for tonight after all.”
“Are you getting a kick out of being this sneaky?” I ask as an attentive waiter fills our water goblets.
He holds his fingers an inch apart. “Li’l bit.”
We start with Gorgonzola-stuffed dates wrapped in bacon and, as if that weren’t orgasm-inducing enough, move to wedge salads sprinkled with blue cheese and bacon. Dinner is croquettes for me and ahi tuna for him. For dessert, Milestone has a doughnut bread pudding we admit we’re too full for but order anyway.
It’s as mouthwateringly incredible as it sounds.
“Look at this!” I gesture to my stomach as we exit the restaurant for the concert. The crowd is less packed in than before, but we choose to watch from the comfort of an abandoned bench.
“Honey, I’m looking.” Davis’s eyes don’t leave mine.
“I mean I ate too much,” I mumble, pressing on my protruding stomach. “Is that a deterrent for you?”
“Grace,” he says on a laugh. “I’ve been calculating how much of this fancy stuff we have to do before I can take you home and get you out of that dress.”
A shiver works its way up my spine and I pull my shawl around my shoulders. He notices and scoots closer, wrapping his arm around me. We listen to the band, watching couples dance and sway to a slow song.
I lean in to whisper in his ear. “I say you’ve done enough.”
His grip on my shoulder grows tighter, more desperate.
“Your place?” I ask.
“Thought you’d never ask,” he answers. “But first things first.”
Davis
There was one activity I promised myself I’d introduce Grace to, so as much as I want to have her home and under me, we can’t leave just yet. Over a bite of my seared ahi tuna, she mentioned she’d never indulged in Bicentennial Park’s premier offering.
In a fit of new construction last summer, the city of Columbus installed none other than a Ferris wheel. It rises high over the pavilion, and Grace pointed it out while we ate.
“That looks fun” was what she said.
“I have to do it” is what I heard.
When I purchase a ticket at the booth, a combination of excitement and anticipation radiates from the beautiful woman to my left. She bounces on the balls of her feet when the man running the wheel opens the gate.
I gird my loins and give her a smile, trying to hide that I’m more than a little alarmed at being high in the air in a swinging metal basket.
“A woman who loves champagne but never drinks it. Likes Ferris wheels but never rides them,” I say as the bar is lowered over our laps. “You should indulge more.”
She gives me a sideways glance as the ride takes off. I cling to the bar in front of us with a death grip.
“You okay?”
I chuff a sound that’s supposed to imply that of course I’m okay, but I’m not sure if “okay” is the best term for what I’m feeling. Airplane heights I can handle. Heights on an unstable carnival ride? Not my favorite thing.
We are swept slowly but efficiently into the air and given a supreme view of the lit buildings of downtown and the concert below. Even the quiet fountains are breathtaking at this height. Literally, in my case.
Fuck, it’s high up here.
“This is the most singularly incredible experience.” Her unblinking eyes are wide, like she doesn’t want to miss a single second of what’s around us. It’s breezier up here than on the ground. The wind lifts her hair and her curls brush her face. She pushes them behind her ear and gives me the most genuine smile.
That’s why I did this. Why I risked life and limb to sit atop the Scioto Mile with her.
She’s happy. I think I’d do just about anything to make this woman happy.
I haven’t felt like that in a long, long time. Not about anyone.
The wheel comes to a halt with us one carriage from the top, and I focus intently on Grace and the stars over her shoulder.
She leans forward and tips us enough that I open my mouth to say her name, but no sound comes out.
“The view up here is incredible!” She leans farther forward and my fingers tense around the lap bar. “Do you—” she starts, then frowns. I’m probably a sweaty, pale sight. “Davis? Are you okay? You look…not okay.” She leans back and my equilibrium returns.
“I’m okay.” I suck in a breath and nod tightly.
Her eyes narrow. “You don’t like heights, do you?”
I release a defiant laugh.
She puts her hand over mine, where I’m half certain rigor mortis has set in. “It’s romantic up here.”
“You find the potential of plummeting to our deaths romantic?”
Her laugh eases the tension in my chest. Jade green eyes lock on mine a moment before I palm her nape and tug her closer.
I kiss her, releasing the bar to hold onto Grace instead. We’re making out, the breeze cool over our heated skin. She tastes like the sweet dessert and espresso we enjoyed moments ago. She tastes like the woman I missed when I was in San Francisco, in spite of my having taken that trip four years in a row and never once coming home early.
The ride starts to move again and I latch onto the bar with one hand as we sweep backward toward the ground. She takes my other hand in hers and weaves our fingers together.