“Yes.” I press my lips together briefly. “Thanks.” I’m fine, and I’m brimming with admiration for how he handled that situation and how quickly he subdued those rowdy kids.
The teenagers move up to the counter to order, and then it’s our turn.
When we have our ice cream, we walk to the small area next door with picnic benches arranged among shrubs and flowers. I take a seat and tip my head back. From here, I can see the moon, which I love. Ever since I was a kid, I found the moon comforting, so far away but lit up so brightly by the sun.
Trace sits beside me on the bench, straddling it to face me, his elbow resting on the table, and digs his spoon into his ice-cream-and-cookie concoction. For the first time I notice that he’s left-handed. I have no idea why, but I’ve always found that sexy.
I first take the tiny ice cream cone off the top of mine. It’s called Big Little Chocolate Cone because the big cone, filled with chocolate soft ice cream, dipped in chocolate and rolled in crushed chocolate cookies, is garnished with a tiny cone prepared the same way. I always eat it first.
When I try to bite it, it slips out of my fingers and lands on the ground. “Oh no!”
Trace glances down. But when I blink again, my little cone is perched on top of the big cone. I shake my head, frowning. “Um… what just happened?”
Trace lifts his eyebrows. “What?”
“I dropped my ice cream… I think…” Wow, I’m pretty sure I’m not drunk from those beers earlier. What the…?
“It’s fine.” He gestures at my cone.
“Yeah. It is.” I stare at it, confused.
“Eat it before it melts,” he says gently.
“Er. Right.” This time I’m successful. “Mmmm. So good.”
“Have I taken your mind off your bad day?”
I tilt my head. “I had a bad day?”
He laughs. “Good.”
I sigh, remembering my messages with Felise Candler earlier. I’ve apparently found my biological father, but I’ve also caused an uproar in the Candler family, and I hate that. That was never what I wanted on this bizarre quest.
“But it hasn’t gone away.” He studies my face.
“No. It hasn’t gone away.” I take a bite of my big cone. “I’ll deal with it tomorrow.”
He smiles. “You’re wearing chocolate cookie crumbs.”
“I know. Can’t be helped.” It’s not like this is a real first date where I’m trying to make a good impression. Might as well dive in and not worry about the mess. “How did you learn to waltz?”
“Oh. Uh. I practiced with my sisters when they were graduating.”
“How many sisters?”
“Two.”
I nod. “That’s nice.”
He grins, and I can see the affection warm his eyes. “They’re okay. Nutty little witches. They’re a lot younger than me, so I kind of feel I need to look out for them.”
I like that. A lot. After another mouthful of ice cream, I ask, “So… why do you think your real date didn’t show up tonight?”
He stares at me. “Wait, what? You’re not Garrett and Julie’s friend?”
“I have no idea who Garrett and Julie are.” I pause and bite my lip. “Are you mad?”
He shakes his head. “Mad? At you? Jesus.” He rubs his forehead. “Why…?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. I needed a drink and company, and since it was already eight thirty, I figured she wasn’t coming so I might as well join you.”
He barks out a laugh. “Holy shit.” His mouth twitches up into a smile. “You’re really something.”
“So you’re not mad?”
“No. I have a feeling my evening turned out a lot better with you than it would have with Amy.”
“Maybe she knew that.”
“Probably.” He rolls his eyes. “Garrett and Julie have good intentions, and I don’t know Amy at all, but I have some rough edges. I was a rebellious little shit as a teenager. I suspect Amy’s not… my type.”
I hold his gaze. “Am I your type?”
“Didn’t think I had a type,” he mutters.
I lick my bottom lip, sweeping up crumbs of chocolate. Gah. This man is so hot and looking at me with smoky eyes, and my face is covered in chocolate. “I don’t have a type either.” My voice is husky. “But I like you.”
“I like you too.”
Wow, wow, wow. My impulsive decision to sit down with a stranger has turned into… I don’t even know what, but it’s exciting and exhilarating and electrifying. Quivery sensation ripples through me, tiny sparks tingling beneath my skin.
“I doubt if Amy would have wanted to visit a haunted house at midnight.”
I grin. “I’m unique.”
“That you are.”
“Also, she probably wouldn’t sit in front of you with chocolate smeared all over her face.”
His slow smile is so sexy. “I could have so much fun, licking that chocolate off your mouth.”
A warm slide of desire pools low inside me, and I gaze at him, mesmerized. Then I try to shake it off. “Why were you a rebellious little shit?”
He drops his gaze, and his smile fades. “I lost my whole family when I was sixteen. In a car crash. I had a hard time dealing with it.”
“Oh. I’m sorry.” I cover his big hand with mine. “I’m sorry I asked.”
“It’s okay. I was taken in by another family. I’m grateful now, but at the time, I was pissed at the world.”
Sympathy swells my heart. “That’s understandable. Especially at that age. And it seems you turned out okay.” I’m still impressed with his command over those kids.
“Yeah. My new family didn’t give up on me, but they didn’t take my shit either.” Trace finishes his cone and wipes his fingers with a paper napkin. “I owe them a lot.”
I finish my cone too, and we toss our trash into a receptacle and walk down the sidewalk toward Trace’s car.
“I guess I should take you home,” he says.
“I guess.”
Neither of us sound enthusiastic.
I give him my address and directions, although he knows this neighborhood. “Where do you live?” I ask.
“On North Damen. Not far.”
He pulls up in front of my building and has to double park because the narrow, one-way street is lined with cars on both sides. “I’ll walk you in.”
“You don’t have to do that.”
He ignores me and jumps out. He walks with me toward my gate, wrought iron between tall red brick pillars that match the facade of the three-story building. The leaves of the trees on the boulevard flutter above us, dappling the moonlight onto the grass and sidewalk. In the quiet, I unlock the gate and pause.
Trace is close to me, tall and broad. He lifts a hand to my face, cupping it, his thumb brushing the corner of my mouth. We look at each other for a moment laden with attraction, excitement… anticipation. “I had fun tonight.”
My skin tingles and my lips part. “Me too.”
“I don’t do relationships.”
I blink. “No, me either,” I say quickly. “My life’s a little complicated right now.”