Chaos and Control(42)

When I look at Bennie, I find her watching us, but she quickly raises her magazine and hides behind it. I hop up on the counter, sighing contently.

“You guys are better than half of my romance novels,” Bennie says.

…

“Where are you taking me, Preston-who-has-staked-his-claim?”

I sit curled into his side as the big blue truck rumbles toward Franklin. After declaring to Sawyer that we had plans, Preston thought it only fair to follow through. He didn’t give me any details, only said to be ready to go by seven o’clock. When he showed up at Bennie’s door with a single wildflower, I practically melted. This man, all big and brawny and constantly fighting his demons, is slowly finding a way into my heart.

“There’s a place near campus that has the best Italian food.”

“Sounds great,” I say, hooking my arm through Preston’s and leaning on his shoulder. The material of his button-down shirt is soft against my cheek, while the hard muscle is unmoving.

“The lasagna is amazing. Better than my mom’s,” he finishes.

“Can’t wait. Oh! Can we get dessert? I love dessert.”

Preston looks down at me and back to the road. “I imagine I’d give you just about anything you wanted, Wren Hart.”

I grin and turn my face toward the opposite window, so he can’t see just how much he affects me. The rest of the drive is quiet. Preston helps me out of the truck, his gaze lingering on my legs longer than necessary. I tug the hem of my little black dress down to its rightful place and grab my clutch.

The restaurant is in an old building in downtown Franklin. Inside, the ambience is warm and inviting. Low lighting with candles on every table and high-back booths create an intimate setting for dinner. Preston holds my hand as we are led through the restaurant to a booth near the back of the room. He gestures for me to slide in first and then takes a seat next to me. The hostess shows us the wine list and says our server will be with us shortly. The entire time, she’s only speaking to me. She is all flirty smiles and twinkling eyes, like Preston doesn’t exist.

When she’s gone, I snap my menu open. “That was fucking rude.”

Preston turns to me. “What?”

“She was flirting with me right in front of you.”

He laughs and shakes his head. “I thought she was just being friendly. Guess I’m clueless.”

“It’s like she didn’t even see you there,” I say, folding the menu closed and glaring at the girl’s back. While in any other situation I might entertain her flirting, tonight I find it disrespectful.

“I know the feeling.” My eyes slide to Preston and are held in place by the intense look he’s giving me. “You’re all I see.”

Well, shit. I’m trying to be offended, and he says the most perfect thing. Preston gives me a smile, and it seems to make my anger break into tiny pieces and flutter away.

“You seem comfortable in this place,” I tell him, while resuming my perusal of the menu.

“I used to come here a lot.”

“Did you bring all your dates?”

Preston keeps his eyes on his menu and shakes his head. “No, Wren. I didn’t have dates. I ate alone.”

“No dates? Ever?” Preston shakes his head and drops his eyes to his menu. “How is that possible? You’re basically the hottest guy I’ve ever seen.”

He shrugs, never looking up. “I didn’t say there weren’t opportunities, just that I didn’t go on dates.” Finally, he meets my eyes. “I told you I was in exactly one relationship, and that ended up being a disaster. I’m just not boyfriend material.”

I put my menu down. “That doesn’t mean all relationships would be a disaster. You just have to find the right fit.”

“And are you the right fit?”

I think he’s joking, but it makes me uncomfortable. I don’t know what I want from Preston, and I’m not sure what we’re doing with each other. All I know is that in this moment, I want him. I’m not thinking about his disorder or me leaving Crowley one day. All I can think about is being with him.

“Hello, my name is Stephan, I will be your server tonight.” The waiter pauses, and once all eyes are on him, he continues. “The special tonight is a roasted duck breast with spring peas and a mint basil risotto. What can I get you to drink?”

“I’ll take a glass of the house cabernet,” I say.

“Just water for me, no ice.”

I frown at his choice. Without alcohol, our chances of getting physical tonight seem dismal.

“Great. May I suggest the fried spinach ravioli to start?”

“That sounds great, thanks,” Preston says. The waiter tells us he’ll be right back with our drinks and leaves. “I’m sorry. I didn’t even ask if you would like the ravioli.”

“No worries. It’s fine with me.”

Preston sighs and stares at the menu. “See? I’m not so great at dates.”

I set my menu down and place my hand on his thigh. “It’s just us, Preston. No rules. Relax and be your pretty self.”

He frowns. The shadows on his face make him look downright devilish—beautifully so. “Again with the pretty?”

“Always,” I answer. “So, since this is our official first date, does this mean we get to move past first base?” I slide my hand up his thigh, and his entire body stiffens.