Drop Dead Gorgeous(109)
“Wow,” Holly breathes out, horrified. After a few seconds to process, she blinks and focuses on me again. Pointing from me to Blake, she asks, “And you two?”
“I love him.” I’m answering Holly but looking at Blake. I see sparkles, which might be a concussion concern, but I think it’s the sparkles in his eyes as I say it aloud for the first time. “I love you.”
“I know, Miss Walker. It’s hard not to.” He gives me his single-brow lift with a cocky smirk, and I can’t help but laugh at his weirdness.
Just as weird, I reply, “You think so, Mr. Hale? Did you know most people decide whether they like someone in the first ninety seconds? Want to know what I thought of you after you crashed into my car?” We both know I hit him, but I don’t know that we’ll ever be done teasing about who caused the accident that started this all.
“Nope, because I already know what I thought of you . . . I thought you were gorgeous, smart, and funny. I was already halfway in love with you then.”
“You were not,” I argue halfheartedly.
“I was,” he says, but it’s lost in his kiss as his lips meet mine again. Sweet, soft kisses, almost pecks, but one right after the last as though he wants to sip at me.
I tease along the fullness of his lip with my tongue, and he opens for me, but instantly, he invades my mouth instead, holding my head gently so I don’t move and injure myself. Vaguely, I hear the door open and Jacob say, “Shiii-ooot, are they at it again? Come on, I’ll take you ladies for hot chocolate while these lovebirds do that.”
Holly must answer, but I’m too lost in Blake to care.
Chapter 28
Blake
I pull up to Zoey’s trailer, actually a little nervous. I washed my sedan today, but I still give the interior a once-over to make sure there’s not a speck of dust or dog hair. I climb out and smooth my slacks at my hips, not wanting any creases.
Not tonight.
Not on my first date with Zoey.
Is it odd that we have spent every night since she got out of the hospital a week ago together, and I left her bed just this morning so that she could have the day to get ready for our big date?
Maybe. But this is a big deal.
The first date of many with the woman I love.
“Hey! Hey, you!” I hear from across the way. Thelma and Louise are sitting in their rickety folding chairs, same as they do every night, smoking and talking about God knows what.
“Yes, ladies?” I answer, taking measured steps their way. I dare them to say one harsh word about Zoey. I will skin them alive. Hell, I won’t have to . . . Zoey has been calling everyone in town on their shit since she got out of the hospital.
People have been apologizing left and right, telling her ‘we didn’t know it was hurting you’ and ‘why didn’t you say something sooner?’ It pissed me off, but Zoey is choosing to draw a line in the sand—the before and the now. And she’s giving everyone, herself included, a fresh start.
But only one, and then she’ll tell you right off.
I beamed like a love-drunk fool when she told Bubba that she’d sit anywhere she damn well pleased while we waited for our to-go order two nights ago at the beer barn, and he’d nodded his agreement before saying, “Yes, ma’am.”
“Why’re you all dressed up? You taking our Zoey Walker on the town?”
I search through the words for any ill-will and scan their eyes for any malice, but find none. “Yes, we’re going to dinner.”
Smoke billows from Thelma’s mouth as she scolds me. “Well, it’s about damn time. That girl needs someone to make sure she’s eating and taken care of. Poor child, always taking care of everyone else.”
The tsk sound she makes seems authentic, like she’s always worried about Zoey, but I haven’t forgotten our previous conversations, though Zoey would like to. Louise hums, nodding her agreement. “Yes, she is. Sweet girl, that Zoey. So caring and kind.”
Seriously? Did body-snatching aliens invade and I missed the news report? How have they gone from smack talking Zoey, thinking she was harvesting DBs’ nails as conditioner additives, to calling her ‘poor child’ and ‘sweet girl’?
Guess getting kidnapped has its benefits, I think wryly.
“Yeah, well, I don’t want to be late, so good night.” I quick step it back to Zoey’s, hoping that if body-snatchers have come to Williamson County today, they left my woman alone because she’s perfect just the way she is.
*
“Did I tell you that you look gorgeous?” I ask Zoey, knowing full well that I’ve told her at least three times already.
But she does. Her black hair is down, long and softly curled, and she’s wearing a bit of makeup that makes her blue eyes look sultry and mysterious—though I know she’s hiding the leftover bruising, and her little black dress hugs curves that I’m dying to get my hands on.
“Hmm, I can’t remember,” she teases. “Maybe?” She takes a sip of her wine, trying to hide her pleased smile.
We’re sitting at the fancy restaurant Trey recommended as the place he took Serena for their last anniversary, our delicious dinner eaten and a bottle of wine shared between us. But there’s one more thing I want to do before we go back to my place tonight.