I don’t know where we’re headed, or even if we’re headed anywhere at all, but I suppose the best approach is to take my own advice and not worry about what was or should be and concentrate on what is. Because I’m sleeping with the woman my brother almost married, and I have zero interest in changing my current status.
Lina stretches her arms and lets out a happy sigh.
“Good morning,” I say against her ear.
She reaches behind her and strokes my jaw. “Good morning back.” Then she lifts her head. “Ouch. Why is there a twig in the bed?”
“What?”
Frowning, she sits up and reaches under the covers, her hands searching for whatever’s distracted her. Until she grabs my dick. “Oh. Sorry. I mistook that for a twig. Thought I might have gotten something stuck on me when I was gardening. Never mind.”
With my mouth curved in amusement, I do nothing for several seconds—and then I pounce, wrestling her to the mattress as she screams and feigns outrage. Eventually I manage to pin her down and press my “twig” against the apex of her thighs.
Quite pleased with herself, she gives me a lopsided grin, her eyes bright with mischief.
“Are you ticklish?” I ask.
She shakes her head. “Not at all.”
I watch her quietly as her eyes travel to a spot over my shoulder. That’s her lying gaze, and I won’t be fooled by it anymore. “Well, if that’s the case, then you won’t mind this.” Growling, I dive under the covers and tickle the backs of her legs and the sides of her waist. Lina yelps, bucking against me like a bronco and throwing me off her in seconds.
I lie back against the mattress and stare at the ceiling, a smile that even feels goofy plastered on my face. If it were up to me, we’d spend the day together, feeding off these good vibes. But it’s not up to just me, and Lina’s still skittish about our relationship. Maybe there’s a way to keep this day going without making her nervous. Knowing Lina, if her work figures into it, she’ll be game. “Let’s go to dinner tonight. At Blossom.” I turn on my side and catch the way her eyes widen at the suggestion. “The pitch is a little over two weeks away, so we should probably get started on figuring out how to feature the hotel restaurant.”
She sits up and tucks a few strands of hair behind her ear. “Yeah, thanks for the reminder. The presentation should be our priority.” Letting out a heavy sigh, she rolls her eyes upward. “But I have tons to do today. Want to meet there?”
“I don’t mind picking you up.”
She shakes her head. “No, that’s okay. I’ll probably be near that side of town, so it’ll be easy for me to order a Lyft straight to Blossom.”
If that will make you feel better, sure. To her, I say, “That works. I need to run a few errands before then anyway.” I lean over and kiss her cheek. “I had a great time. I’ll use the bathroom and get out of your hair.”
I can’t say that I blame her for wanting to keep our relationship casual, but a part of me wonders why it requires so much effort on her part. This is me, trying to keep it casual. Why can’t she do the same? Maybe her need to distance herself is a symptom of the push and pull that brought us together in the first place. Maybe this is just us. What I do know is that she’s fucking precious when she’s second-guessing me. Or am I second-guessing her? She could very well have a lot of shit to do today, and I’m just feeling unsure about my place in her life. Christ.
She drops her shoulders, probably surprised I’m not campaigning for more sex. “Oh. Okay, yeah. How about I make a reservation for six?”
I stand and stretch, yawning out the last of my sleepiness. “Perfect.”
What’s even more perfect? Keeping Lina off-balance. Because I don’t want to be in this alone. Welcome to the I’m-Into-You-and-Don’t-Know-What-to-Do-About-It Club, Ms. Santos. We’ve been expecting you.
* * *
“Welcome to Blossom, folks. My name is Camille and I’ll be your main server this evening. Have either of you dined with us before?”
Lina nods. “For lunch only, though. Looking forward to trying something else on the menu.”
Camille smiles. “Excellent. We’re glad to have you back. Just to explain to the gentleman here”—she turns in my direction—“any staff member on the floor can help you, whether it’s because you need more water or a utensil, or because I’m taking too long to bring the check.” She leans over and drops her voice to a whisper. “That last one never happens.”
A different server arrives to fill our water glasses and another places a basket of bread in the center of our table.
Camille hands us each a piece of delicate paper. “And this is our tasting menu. Very popular right now. Happy to answer your questions once you’ve had a chance to look it over. In the meantime, can I get you started on a cocktail?”
Lina orders a pomegranate martini. I order a Tom Collins.
When Camille’s gone, Lina leans forward as though she wants to tell me a secret. “I’ve been dying to try the martini. I saw it on the menu when I came for lunch, but I didn’t want to risk being tipsy during an afternoon appointment.”
“Well, now you can be tipsy with me. This should be fun.”
A smile dances on her lips as she opens the menu. I can’t stop looking at her. The simple dress she’s wearing hugs her curves, and its deep red color accentuates her glowing skin. Her hair falls to the side in ringlets, a gold barrette at her temple helping to hold some of it in place.
She meets my gaze over the edge of her menu. I straighten in my seat.
“What are you considering?” she asks.
Honestly, I’m considering how beautiful she is. As for the menu, I haven’t even glanced at it yet.
“I’m thinking about their spin on paella,” she says. “Rabbit, pork, rice, chorizo, yum—the list of ingredients goes on and on. It’s for two, though. Any interest in sharing?”
I set the menu aside. “I’d love to go in on that with you.” I scan the restaurant’s main dining area, taking note of the decor. “So what do you think of the room design?”
Lina places her menu on the table and turns both ways in her chair before scrutinizing the area behind me. “Love the gray weathered shiplap walls. And the wildflowers below the sconces are the perfect touch to tie the name and the decor together. It’s a little darker than I’d like, but it’s cozy. Almost like a fancy farmhouse.” Her gaze lands on the table centerpiece. “Putting the candle in a vintage Mason jar and setting it on a tray is exactly what the room needs. It’s rustic and chic.”
As I watch Lina effortlessly describe the restaurant’s interior design, I finally figure out what’s been bugging me about the wedding-godmother concept we chose for the pitch: It isn’t the best vehicle for showcasing this incredible woman’s talents.
I was so convinced that the personal element had to be front and center that I lost sight of the real person behind the service we’re trying to sell. I fell into the trap of thinking the armor Lina had developed for herself was a bad thing. But, after our time at Surrey Lane Farm, I think Lina owes a large measure of her success to her skill in using that armor to her advantage if and when she needs it. Who she lets into her life, who she cries in front of, who she lets behind her walls, who she shares her emotions with, is ultimately her choice. And it doesn’t diminish what she brings to the table; it just allows her to navigate different environments while remaining within her comfort zone.