Shit. It was almost seven.
* * *
Not yet. fifteen minutes.
* * *
I stared at my phone as text bubbles bounced, disappeared, bounced, and disappeared again. Then I waited another minute, but nothing came.
I didn’t have time to sit there and wait for his response, so I went back to my makeup. The text came through a few minutes later, when I was just finishing up my eyes.
* * *
Time’s up. I’m coming over.
* * *
My gaze shot to the mirror. My hair wasn’t done. If it was staying down, I had to curl the ends or at least add a braid. A knock sounded at the door.
I rushed into the hall. “I’m not ready. Come back in twenty minutes!”
“We agreed on seven.” His voice was muffled through the door.
I took several slow steps to the door but didn’t touch it. “I’m not dressed.”
“Perfect. Let me in.”
I rolled my eyes. “Five minutes.”
“Avery.”
“Please…”
He sighed. “Fine, but your ass better be ready in five. Hurry up.”
I shook my head, not used to that sort of talk from a date. Rushing back into the bedroom, I flipped over my head and roughly brushed out my hair, spritzing it with some product meant to give it a beach look.
I applied a light layer of gloss to my lips and jerked on a pair of boyfriend jeans with an intentional tear at the knee. My cropped, off the shoulder, cream sweater paired with cream stilettos took the look from casual to sassy. I just needed to find earrings.
He knocked again. “Time’s up.”
“I’m coming!” Distractedly, I yanked open the door.
“You’re not supposed to come until the end of the date,” he greeted with a cocky grin. And damn, he looked good.
I rolled my eyes. “I just need to find my earrings.”
“Wait.” He caught my hand and pulled me back to face him. “You look great. I love your hair like that.”
“Th—thanks.” I disentangled my hand and searched the living room for my little gold hoops.
“Are these them?”
Turning, I came up short as he held up the earrings, not ten inches away from me. Why the hell was I so out of breath? I needed to calm the fuck down. “Yes, thank you.”
“You look great. Let’s go.”
As his hand slipped into mine, my brain blanked, and I nearly forgot my purse and coat. “Where are we going?”
“To a tap house.”
“A brewery?”
“Yeah.” His arm curled around my hips as soon as we were inside the elevator, and my breathing suddenly seemed unnatural and out of sync. I had to chill.
My sweater was cropped, and my coat was still in my arms. As his thumb brushed the bare skin of my back, I shivered.
He glanced down at me and smiled. “Ticklish?”
“Not usually.” Nothing about this was usual.
We stepped into the lobby, and he helped me with my coat. “Button up.” He carefully slid each button into its hole. “It’s chilly out there.”
I wasn’t used to him touching me so much or with such casual entitlement, as if we had done this a thousand times before. The instinct to pull away remained out of habit, but as if he sensed my tension, he held tighter each time I thought to put a little space between us.
Winston greeted us at the front door. “I have your car, Mr. Wolfe.”
“Thank you.”
“We’re driving?”
“Yup.”
He drove a beautiful, black BMW 328i hardtop convertible. He held my door, and I was pleased to find the seats already warmed. “This is a nice car.”
“Thanks. Buckle up. We’ve got a thirty-minute drive.”
“We’re leaving the city?”
“Heading to the suburbs. I want you all to myself tonight, so I figured I’d take you somewhere we wouldn’t run into anyone from the city.”
He focused on the congested roads as he navigated his way to the interstate, but once we were cruising down 95 North, he appeared totally at ease. “Are you warm? We can turn down the heat.”
“I’m always cold. How did you hear about the place we’re going?”
“It’s near where I grew up.”
“And where’s that?”
“Bucks County. How about you?”
Not a good topic. I adjusted the dial for the heat. “It is a little warm. How long have you had this car?”
“Wow.” He laughed. “You’re really going to completely ignore my question?”
“What did you ask?”
He turned and gave me a look that said he was positive I knew. “Where did you grow up?”
“A little nowhere town out west.”
“What’s it called?”
“Um, Blackwater.”
“How far is it from Philly?”
“What, are you writing a book?”
He laughed again. “No, just trying to get to know my date. The fact that you’re getting defensive only intrigues me more. Why don’t you like talking about where you’re from?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I fidgeted, getting cold again. Adjusting the dial, I turned up the heat. “My life three years ago was nothing like it is now. Trust me, there’s nothing intriguing about where I’m from.”
“I highly doubt that. Do you have a big family?”
“Four brothers and one sister.”
He frowned. “Did you visit them for Thanksgiving?”
“No. We don’t do holidays. They all have … other obligations.”
He glanced at me and back to the road. “You guys don’t get along?”
Growing up as we had, it was survival of the fittest. Aside from Drew, I didn’t get along with any of them. And Drew was still active military, so the most I saw from him was his handwriting on a postcard since Gavin died.
“We’re not really close. We’re only half-siblings.”
“Oh. Did you grow up in the same house?”
House… Trailer… “Yes, but I’m the baby, so they were mostly gone by the time I graduated high school. We don’t really keep in touch.”
Kenny should have graduated the same year as me, but he’d run away that spring and last I’d heard he was in jail. I needed to turn the conversation back to him.
Before I had the chance to think of a distraction, the interrogation continued, and he asked, “What about your parents?”
“My mom’s still there. I talk to her every couple of weeks.”
“And your dad?”
I sighed. “Can we not do this?”
His eyes strayed from the road, but only briefly. “Sure. Sorry.”
I was terrible at this. No wonder I preferred dating people who didn’t give a shit about the real details of my life. I had no experience with sharing.
“Sorry, I just don’t like talking about my family.”
“No problem.”
A drawn-out silence consumed the car until even our quiet breathing sounded awkward. “Um, what about you? Are you close to your family?”