Oh goody.
“You still haven’t answered my question,” I push.
“I thought that’d be obvious. I told you to call me. You never did, so this is me trying to pick up where we left off,” he says as his voice deepens. In this moment he looks predatory, like a hunter, as he waits for me to respond.
“I was busy,” I shrug as nonchalantly as I can. “But I’m sure I can make an exception. My place or yours?” I’m proud of myself for getting right down to the true meaning of this visit.
“I was actually hoping I could take you to dinner tonight.”
“Dinner?” I can’t help but keep the confusion and surprise out of my voice.
He laughs as he responds. “Why do you always look so confused every time I bring up dinner?”
I can’t stop the honesty from ripping out of my mouth. “Well, why go to dinner first? Don’t you want to...you know?”
“Trust me on this, Mac,” he says as he steps closer to me, “I definitely want, but the reason I want to go to dinner is because I haven’t had a chance to eat yet. I’m starved, in more ways than one. And besides…” he trails off as he looks at me.
“Besides what?”
“You’re going to need all the energy you can get for what I have planned for you.” He says this in the most serious voice, his words low and heated.
“What do you have planned?” I can’t help the whisper that leaves my lips.
“Just you wait and find out, darlin’.” He winks at me and I feel my pussy clench at his words.
I’m tempted to beg him to show me now but swallow the words and ask instead, “What should I wear to dinner?”
He looks pleased that I’ve agreed to have dinner with him. “Whatever you’d like, darlin’. Just make sure it’s easy to take off.”
He’s deadly serious, and I can’t find the words to respond because they’re stuck to the roof of my mouth. He gives my body another glance and leans in to whisper, “I’ll be inside waiting. Don’t keep me waiting long or I’ll come find you, and this time I won’t be as nice.”
With those parting words, he turns and heads toward the house.
I stand here and try and pull myself from the maelstrom of lust overriding my senses. What is it with this man and his ability to walk away while I’m left as a quivering bundle of desire? I can’t even be mad because I know he’ll be delivering on his promises later. I shake my head and walk toward the house as well, thinking about what I have to wear. I smile to myself as I head inside because I’m about to give Lawson Westbrook a run for his money.
The look he gives me when I come downstairs and twirl for him is worth the extra time it took for me to get ready. I have to mentally pat myself on the back for pairing my midnight blue jersey shift dress with black cowboy boots. From the front the dress is perfectly respectable, but the back is a bit more naughty in that it’s low-cut and held together by a multitude of thin straps. I almost went with a bandeau top in lieu of a bra but decided to listen to my inner vixen and nix the bra entirely. My shopping trip the other day was definitely a good idea.
I know as soon as I complete my rotation and get a good look at Lawson’s face that he wholeheartedly approves of my wardrobe choice. He’s usually so charming and well-spoken that I take extra delight in the fact that I’ve managed to leave him tongue-tied, even if for a few seconds. I want to stick to my plan of having him experience a little of what he makes me feel, so I sway my hips right on out of the house before he can say a word.
We’ve been in the car for about thirty minutes, and my curiosity is increasing the farther away we get from Starwood. We listen to country music during the drive and eventually turn onto a main road in Fontaine, one of our town’s neighboring cities. A few more minutes pass before we pull into the parking lot of a restaurant called Southern Silo. I turn to Lawson and find that he’s already smiling at me.
“You read my mind,” I say. “I haven’t been able to stop getting my fill of Southern cooking.”
“Considering the way you devoured our last meal, I thought this would be a safe bet,” he teases.
I feign indignation and let out a small huff of laughter as he comes around and opens the door for me. We head inside, and I can’t stop the feeling of surprise and giddy hopefulness that blooms in my chest when Lawson grabs my hand. I feel my cheeks warm as my attention shifts solely to the way his large hand grips mine and his fingers swipe over my skin, warm and calloused. I’m grateful for the setting sun and can only hope that the warm rays of fading sunlight mask the blush in my cheeks.
We enter the restaurant, and I’m impressed by the classy and comfortable atmosphere. I notice the hostess eyeing Lawson as we walk up to her booth and can’t even bring myself to get upset because honestly, who can blame her? Lawson is a veritable feast for the senses. Between his insanely good looks, deep Southern drawl, and charming personality, he’s a force to be reckoned with. I pity the female population and take comfort in the fact that I’m not the only one who seems to be under his spell.
“Hi, I have a reservation under Westbrook,” Lawson says politely.
“Oh, it was me that took your reservation down when you called yesterday. We’re happy to have you here, Mr. Westbrook.”
At her words I turn to look at Lawson, my eyebrow raised quizzically. All I get in the form of an answer is a smirk as I stare at his chiseled profile.
“Yes, sir. Right this way. I’d be happy to take you,” our hostess says eagerly.
I’m sure you would, honey. I’m sure you would.
We are led to a table that seems to be a bit separated from the rest, which I don’t mind at all. It’ll be nice to have Lawson all to myself with no distractions for a bit.
“Here’s your table, Mr. Westbrook. Is there anything I can get you?”
“No, thank you. We’ll be fine.”
The hostess struts away, and Lawson pulls out my chair and gently seats me. When he comes around the table to take his seat across from me, I decide to call him out.
“So, a reservation huh? A reservation made yesterday? Am I a backup date?”
“Yeah, my regular couldn’t make it so I figured why not? I know there’s no way you can resist me,” he says. His face is completely serious but a decidedly impish gleam lights up his eyes.
My response is immediate. “You betcha. You’re a sure thing, Lawson. Who would resist in the first place? Although I’m slightly offended that I’m a benchwarmer.”
His lips twitch slightly, but he maintains his straight face. “Sure thing, huh? Funny, I thought that about you. As far as your benchwarmer status, I need to be sure you can play hardball with the big leagues before I graduate you to the starting line.”
“I assure you that I belong in the big leagues. I’m happy to show you once you stop giving me little league equipment to play with,” I fire back sweetly.
We stare at each other for a moment, neither of us blinking, before Lawson cracks and starts laughing. The hearty sound fills me up with warmth, and I find myself joining in.
“Ouch, darlin’. You wound me.” He splays his hand over his heart and tries to appear hurt.
“Don’t tell me I’m a benchwarmer, then I won’t have to say such things,” I grin.
He holds his hands up, both palms facing me, as he continues to laugh. “It won’t happen again. But really,” he says, “I made the reservation hoping you’d say yes. If you couldn’t make it, I would’ve either brought Langley with me or canceled.”
“That’s actually really sweet,” I admit.
“I know. What can I say? I was raised right.” He smiles at me, and I can’t help but agree. The Westbrooks did a stellar job raising their children.
“They did alright,” I tease.
“Oh, did they now?”
“You know I’m just pulling your leg, Lawson. They did better than okay.”
“You can pull something other than my leg,” he says in a low voice. The combination of his words and that sexy
smirk are downright lethal, so much so that I feel goosebumps start to spread across my skin.
“Oh, stop,” I laugh. I try to discreetly rub my arms to chase away the tingling sensation he’s caused. Not to mention, I’m also trying to distract myself from crawling under the table to find what he’s referring to. I need to at least stay somewhat classy during this dinner.
“You walked right into that one, darlin’,” he chuckles. His voice is back to normal, and he’s dialed back his smolder just a bit. Thank heavens.
Dinner is a sumptuous feast, and I’m surprised by how easily conversation flows between us, especially now that we’ve already slept together. I was under the impression that most of our dinner talk would revolve around sex. Instead, we swap stories and talk about our lives while our sexual attraction quietly simmers beneath the surface. It’s beyond nice, and I find myself getting more and more drawn to the man underneath the sexy exterior that my teenage and current self swooned over.
“So, Lawson, last time we had dinner there was an awful lot of talk about me. I know we talked about the house you’re building, but tell me something else, please.”
He looks pleased that I remember our conversation about the home he’s working on. He leans in closer to me over the table and asks, “What would you like to know?”
“Whatever you’d like to share. I’m not picky,” I smile, curious to hear what he has to talk about it.
He seems to mull over his words for a few moments before he speaks. “I love and hate our town,” he reveals.
Okay, that’s a little surprising.
“Why? You’re the town’s golden boy. Everyone looks up to you and thinks you’re awesome.” I’m a little embarrassed by my choice of words and can feel my cheeks color, but it’s the truth. Everyone in Starwood loves the Westbrook family; they may as well be royalty.
“That’s exactly why,” he says. He looks a bit surprised that he was so forthcoming with his response, but I don’t press him to continue. Instead, I spear a piece of grilled shrimp with my fork and glide it through the creamy cheddar grits. I almost moan with pleasure as I pop the food in my mouth. I’m really going to miss this food when I go back home, I think to myself.
Lawson takes his own bite of his chicken fried steak as he thinks before he speaks again. “I grew up in this town, and I love everyone in it. This is home for me, and it’s where I can see myself living for the rest of my life. I feel connected to the town like a beating heart. Now that I own my own construction business, I’ve had even more opportunity to get to know the residents better.”
“That’s wonderful,” I say, because it is. There’s something so charming about Starwood that big cities like Chicago just can’t compete with or replicate.
“It is, but it’s also horrible. It seems like everyone wants to know what’s going on in my life. I know they mean well, but there are times when I feel too connected to everyone,” he explains. “I feel like every mother is tryin’ to set me up with their daughter or granddaughter or whoever is available. Being a single, successful man in our hometown has its disadvantages, especially when you come from a family as well-known and as well-connected as mine.”
The sad thing is, I know he isn’t boasting or exaggerating. Finding a handsome, accomplished man from an affluent family is like hitting the lottery for mothers who want to ensure their daughters marry well. Our town is lovely, but sometimes it can feel like you’re living in an Austen novel and every mommy matchmaker is looking for a Mr. Darcy.
“You’re the Mr. Darcy of Starwood,” I blurt. How embarrassing. Hopefully he doesn’t get the reference and we can move on.
“Oh good, as long as I’m not Wickham,” he smirks. “I’d even take Bingley, but I like being the leading man. I just wish I could do it with more privacy.”
Color me surprised. Lawson just earned major kudos by understanding my Darcy reference. Damn him. I’m trying not to like the guy’s brain as much as I do.
“I applaud you for staying unattached this long, old man,” I joke.
“I plan on staying unattached for much longer,” he admits seriously. “I don’t like the idea of being tied down right now. I want to focus on me and my business. If the right woman happens to come along later I’ll know it and can change my plan. My intentions will be loud and clear when I’m serious about someone because I’ll be able to breathe easy knowing everyone will back off when that happens. Until then, I plan on having fun and keeping things casual. I feel like all the scrutiny everyone puts me under makes it hard for me to pursue anything at my own pace.”
His words shouldn’t hurt, but they cause a slight twinge in the area of my heart. Dammit, I thought I was in the clear. It’s probably just my natural reaction to being unintentionally rejected. I may not be his forever woman but I’m going to enjoy being Ms. Right Now while I’m in town.
“Do what makes you happy, Lawson,” I say with honesty. Really, please do whatever makes you happy. Preferably me.
“Thanks, Mac. I appreciate you being so understanding.”
“Of course.”
We’re momentarily saved from continuing the conversation when our waiter comes by to refill our wine.
“Would you fine folks like some dessert this evening? Tonight’s specials include house-made peach ice cream, praline bread pudding with vanilla sauce, and bananas foster with house-made vanilla ice cream.”
Lawson and I stare at one another before we both respond at the same time. “Peach ice cream to share, please.”
Our waiter walks off with our order as we laugh over our jinx. We steer our conversation back to lighter topics, and by the time our dessert arrives the twinge in my heart feels like the distant memory of a dull ache.
I pick up my spoon and scoop up some of the peach ice cream. It smells divine and the texture looks velvety and delectable. Lawson follows suit and we both bring our spoonfuls to our mouths at the same time. Unfortunately, I completely miss his reaction because my taste buds are being attacked by the sweet flavor of fresh peaches. I swipe the ice cream off the spoon with my tongue and have to stop myself from moaning out loud at the taste.
I look up and see that Lawson is watching me, his darkened eyes fixated on my mouth. “What? Do I have ice cream on my face?” I bring my fingers to my lips and check for ice cream.
“No, your face is perfect. I mean, perfectly fine.” I swear I see Lawson shake his head before he continues. “I never thought I’d say this, but the expression you just gave when you tried that ice cream makes me envy your spoon.”
He chuckles darkly, and I feel my nipples harden from the deep sound.
“Oh, really now?” I swipe more ice cream up with my spoon and bring it to my lips. Feeling daring, I dart my tongue out and taste the peachy goodness. “How so?”
“You know why,” he growls. He’s still watching my mouth, his ice cream all but forgotten.
“I think I have an idea,” I murmur. My own voice has lowered, and the attraction that was so well-behaved up until this point is beginning to blaze to life with the intensity of a forest fire.
“I think you do too, darlin’.” His hands are now clenched into fists on top of the tablecloth, and I can see the rise and fall of his muscular chest as he watches me.
“Mmmmm,” I moan lightly. “I don’t know how you’re ignoring this ice cream, Lawson. It tastes incredible.” I continue to slowly lick away at my spoon and revel in the obvious approval and attraction blazing in Lawson’s eyes.
“I’d rather taste that sweet pussy of yours for dessert instead.” His simple, straightforward statement almost makes me drop my spoon as desire crashes through me. Just thinking about the devastating pleasure his tongue can inflict has my nipples hardened to painful points and my panties uncomfortably wet.
I glance back at him, and he has his bottom lip held captive between his teeth. We stare at one another, and the low hum of the restaurant disappears as we eat each other up with our eyes. I’m not sure how much time passes, b
ut we’re dragged back to reality when we hear our waiter clearing his throat.
“Is there anything else I can get you tonight?”
I look at Lawson and a genius idea flashes across my mind.
“Just the check, please. Thank you,” I say, keeping my gaze locked on Lawson’s while I speak to our waiter.
A gleam of triumph fills Lawson’s eyes as the waiter leaves. I may be turned on like a backup radiator in winter but I finally found a way to give Lawson a run for his money. This is going to be too much fun. He won’t know what hit him.
13
We’re back in Lawson’s truck, and he looks at me expectantly as he turns the key in the ignition. “Where to next, Mac?”
I plaster what I hope is a sweet, innocent smile on my face when I respond. “Shady Layne Orchard, please.”
To Lawson’s credit he doesn’t look upset, confused, or disappointed. He simply nods as he smiles and says, “Whatever you’d like, m’lady,” before heading out of the parking lot. His words make me smile, and we head back to Starwood to the soft strains of music floating from the radio. I marvel at how easy it is to have quiet moments with him. Usually I feel the need to fill a silence, but being with Lawson now, the only words between us those from whatever song is playing, make me feel comfortable and at peace.
I glance over as he’s driving and feel my pulse spike as I take in his handsome form. He looks so strong and capable at all times, and I feel the urge to see his calm exterior rattled. I bite my lip and look out the window as I try to convince myself to move forward with my plan from the restaurant. I catch a peek of his profile in the reflection of the glass, and seeing him so cool and collected makes my decision for me. I’m doing this.
“Whatever I’d like?” I ask innocently.
“What was that, darlin’?” He tilts his head and shoots a quick glance my way before turning his attention back to the road.
“You said whatever I’d like just now. I was just making sure that’s what you meant.”
His brow furrows slightly as he processes my words. “Of course I meant it. Why, is everything okay?” The obvious concern coloring his tone makes me smile even more.
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