With an enigamatic smile in place, Matt gives me a single nod. “Yep.”
“And when did I agree to it?”
“Last night. I suggested we have breakfast together, but you said it was too early for that, and we agreed I’d see you at lunch. Please tell me you remember it.”
As much as I don’t want to, I can’t help the stupid grin that is forcing its way into my face. “Of course I do, but you never specified this lunch would be a date.”
“It was implied,” he says, as if it’s the most obvious thing on Earth.
“You come here every day for lunch. How was a date implied?”
His eyes gleam with amusement as he stares at my face. He tucks his hair behind his ear and I smile as he says, “Will you always make a point in giving me a hard time?”
“Probably. And you said you like that I’m not easy.”
Matt laughs, and touches his hand to my elbow. It makes me think about last Sunday, and how blindsided I was by his touch. I feel like that again, but this time it’s for a completely different reason.
Without breaking eye contact, he slides his hand down and traces a circle on the inside of my wrist before continuing until the pads of our fingers touch. In a low, sexy voice he asks, “Lexie, will you go out on a date with me?”
Despite the lump in throat, I manage a semi-steady voice. “I’d love to.”
I try to pull some more air in so I can tell him that this date won’t be happening today, since I have plans, but he curls his fingers around mine, brings my hand up to his lips, and delivers a lingering kiss to the back of it. Before pulling his mouth away, he looks up at me through impossibly long lashes. All thoughts of going to Tanie’s house to help decorate slip right out of my mind as my entire body warms up.
He turns around and signals to Anna, who smiles and looks at me funny as she approaches. Anna and Matt talk, but I pay no attention to it. I’m too preoccupied with taking the breath I’ve been neglecting since Matt’s fingers met mine. I look up at his smiling face as we follow Anna to booth nine. Being here in this situation with Matt is like an out-of-body experience. I’m aware that I’m living this moment, but it’s all too surreal.
Once we finally reach the table, Anna gives me a knowing glance and walks away, leaving us alone. Instead of sitting down, we stand in front of the booth, leaning our legs against the tabletop, holding hands and not saying anything. There’s a pensiveness in the unblinking way that Matt looks at me. It makes me feel important in a way that I’ve never felt before. It also makes the silence a little too much.
I mentally shake myself awake and think of Tanie, my lifelong best friend, and of the whole Wolf family who have been a family to me as well, and of how I can’t cancel on them. That gives me the strength to speak. “I think it’s important to clarify that the date won’t be happening today.”
He tilts his head and raises a brow. “Is that so?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Damn,” he mutters, but doesn’t hide the smirk dancing on his lips. “I was looking forward to the end of this date. Now that I know how your lips feel, I’m dying to know how they taste.”
Oh my God! My heart speeds like a freight train in my chest, because I want to taste his lips too. I want it more than I’ve wanted anything else in my life. But I’m not ready to let him know that just yet, and this can’t be a date. I have no time today, so I tease him. “That was so cheesy. For one of those guys, it was seriously weak.”
He stares at me for a couple of seconds, and then bursts into laughter. So I continue, “What will it be next? Do you know what's on the menu? Me-n-u.”
Still chuckling, he suggests, “How about, are your legs tired? Because you've been running through my mind all day.”
“Pathetic.” I shake my head. “Besides, lunch dates are something you do with family and childhood friends, not with someone you want to eventually see naked. Besides, I’m tired, wearing my uniform, and at my place work. If this is a date, it’ll be the worst first date in the history of ever.”
He cocks a brow. “C’mon. A friend of mine had a girl throw up in his mouth. That’s the worst first date ever.” And now it’s my turn to laugh, a real throw-your-head-back-and-snort kind of laugh. When I look back at him, he’s got a really intense look in his eyes as he takes a deep breath and touches my hair. After clearing his throat, he adds, “Besides, you look beautiful in that uniform, and the food here is great. That’s an okay date, at least.”
“See, that’s better . . . honest and full of yourself.” He winks, and I’m pretty sure I blush. “But this will be my first date in three years; it has to be better than an okay quick lunch.” As soon as the words come out, I wish I could swallow them back. That’s way too much information.
We stare at each other in silence for a while, and I completely forget that we’re just standing beside a table in the middle of The Jukebox like idiots. I also don’t care. For the first time, I don’t care if the restaurant is full or empty. I don’t care if the nosey folks of Jolene are staring a hole in my back, or if I’ll wake up to a world of gossip tomorrow. I even stop caring about arriving late at the Wolfs’. All I care about is this moment.
Matt slides the hand he has on my hair down my arm until it reaches my waist. With a bow of his head, he kisses my cheek before letting go of me to slide into his seat. “How about we call today a test-drive? We’ll take this thing for spin, and see if committing to a date will be worth it or not.”
“You think it won’t be?” I ask, genuinely concerned, and take a seat across from him. And just like that I agree to this test-drive.
He lifts a brow, and tilts his head. “Of course I think it’ll be worth it. I wanted a date for today, didn’t I? But you’re the first girl I’ve ever officially asked out on a date. Actually, you’re the first girl I’ve ever taken out on a proper date, so my expectations are pretty damn high.”
That admission shocks, worries and thrills me, all in one swoop. It shocks me because he’s a good-looking, sweet-talking man who admitted to not having problems with women—and I believe him, because I have a magical thing called eyes. It worries me because his experience, when combined with never asking a girl out on a date, puts said expectations in a range I’m not sure I’m ready to fulfill—at least not in the near future. And finally, it thrills me because being a first to a guy like him is a pretty freaking huge deal.
I try to take the edge away from my voice and make it playful, but I’m not sure I achieve that. “Uh-oh! Now you got me nervous. You should probably tell me what those expectations are. That way we can better assess if you’ll end up disappointed or not.”
“Okay, I like this game.” The twinkle in his eyes as he slouches on his seat tells me that whatever is about to come out of his mouth will be meant to tease me. “Let’s start with the most obvious expectation. Kiss, yay or nay?”
My full response to his question would be “Oh my fucking God, yay!” But I manage to let out only the fifth word.
He gives me a smug smile, and shoots off another question. “Touching me inappropriately with your foot under the table?”
My face heats up with a blush that is more related to the mental image than to embarrassment. “Depends on how much alcohol you manage to get in me.”
“Really?” he asks, with an arched brow. My only reply is a laugh. “Mm-hmm . . . interesting. Should I ask Anna for a pitcher of beer, and some shots?”
I shake my head. “Test-drive, not a date.”
“Crap. Okay, ending the night naked?”
“It depends on the date, but if this was a date, the chances would be pretty high. Like, seventy-five percent.”
Matt lets out a puff of air. “Oh, c’mon. That’s not high, that’s low as dirt. You should be squirming and jumping over the table by now.”
Because I’m dumb, I squirm, visibly. Because he’s smooth as butter and is probably having way too much fun with this, he smirks, but doesn’t comment on it. I’m glad, and then he na
rrows his eyes. “Was it that cheesy line? Did I blow it there?”
I really want to laugh, but I don’t. I just look at him though my best innocent gaze, and lift my shoulders as I nod. He shakes his head, his lips dancing with mirth. “Good to know. From now on, I’ll stay away from that mistake. This test-drive thing is good. By the time we say good night, I’ll have the road map to getting into your pants.”
The cocky, teasing tone in which he says that makes it impossible to hold my laughter in. Although he chuckles a little, he mostly watches me laugh with this really intense look in his eyes. Out of the blue, and before I can give him a smart-ass comeback, his lips move.
“I love your laugh.” The words are like an afterthought, like something he didn’t really mean to say, and just came out. They also do funny things to me—like make my mouth dry as a desert, and my body just as warm. He tucks his hair behind his ear and, in his normal voice, adds, “Can I expect you to laugh at my jokes during our date? Even at the ones that are not that funny?”
“Probably, but there’s a ninety-nine percent chance that I’ll point out the not-so-funny jokes.”
“I can live with that. What I can’t live with is awkward first-date talks about cheating boyfriends, all the many things we have in common, and all that crap. I’d much rather talk about whatever, and hear you laugh. Your thoughts . . .?”
“Thank God!” I reply emphatically, with wide eyes. “I have absolutely no interest in talking or thinking about exes, especially on a first date. Besides, those talks are completely pointless, unless you have a few more dates, and end up having a relationship. But here’s the problem: by the time you know all that crap about the other person, you find them so freaking boring you give up on getting to know them. So unless you’re an ax murderer intent on chopping me to pieces, or some other creepy thing like that, I’m cool with the past for now.”
Matt looks at me with a smile and unblinking eyes. It makes me wonder what he’s thinking about. Before he can say anything, Anna stops by, asking if we’re ready to order. I order a spicy burger with fries and a beer, which makes the amazement in Matt’s eye deepen. He requests the same, we thank Anna, and she walks away.
That fervent look in his gaze endures for a while more. I mimic it, gazing deep in those eyes that mirror the night sky. He brings his body forward, leaning his elbows over the tabletop. He raises one hand to cup his chin, and folds the other arm so his hand touches his opposed elbow.
Once more I copy him, leaning my body closer to the table, however instead of bringing my hand up to prop my chin, I stretch it over the table, letting my fingers fall extremely close to his arm. With an almost imperceptible movement, he covers my fingers with his. His thumb dips between my palm and the wooden surface, and at an unnaturally slow speed that gives me the best kind of chills.
When the silence becomes too much, I ask, “What are you thinking?”
“Honestly?”
I nod. “Always.”
He smiles. “I’m thinking that with the jokes, and the beer, and the possibility of being frisked under the table, you’re kind of perfect, and I really need to convince you that even though you’re tired and in your work clothes, that this should be a date.”
I blink a few times, at a complete loss for words. What do you reply to something like that? What do you say to a man who says the most inappropriate things, and still makes you feel like goo? I honestly have no idea, but deep down I’m dying to let him convince me that this should be a date, because he’s kind of perfect too.
“Well, people test-drive cars by driving them the way they normally would, right?” He nods, and I continue. “The only way to see if this experiment works is to treat it like a date.”
Anna stops by with our beers. We don’t even acknowledge her presence this time; we’re too busy staring at each other.
We take our bottles—me with my free hand, and him with the one that was cupping his chin—and clink the necks.
“To test-drives,” he proposes, and we smile at each other and take a dink. He stares at my lips, and I stare at his. We bring our bottles back to the table at the same time.
“So, are you an ax murder or a creep?” Matt’s eyes go out of focus for a second, then a small frown forms on his face as he shakes his head. “Good. So anymore expectations you’d like to discuss?”
“Nope, I’m good. But I do have a serious question to ask you. Are you ready?” Judging by his tone, it’s obvious that he’s joking, so I play along and nod after a long steadying breath. And then he asks, “What’s your weirdest talent?”
I deadpan. “I can imitate all the American accents, and seven accents from around the world.”
He laughs and dares me prove it, which I do, sending our conversation to a new and very amusing direction.
I have no idea how much time has passed since we first sat down to eat. What I do know is, one, adding a bowl of boiled peanuts, cake, extra beer, and a pitcher of Coke to our original order wasn’t the most intelligent thing we ever did, because we’re both stuffed holiday style, which isn’t comfortable; and two, I haven’t thought about the Wolfs, and the preparations for Tanie’s party since sitting my butt on this seat.
I blame both things on a very enjoyable time together. Our conversations are a weird, random bunch of whatevers—our eating obsessions, the stories of getting our tattoos, our views on spirituality versus religion, him being left-handed and me being ambidextrous, and all the stuff that happened during his first week here in Jolene. But still, we do, in fact, end up learning a lot about each other.
And all those little things, that are as random as they are him, make me flirt with the lines of liking him more than a lot, and whatever there is after that. Strangely enough, I’m okay with it and Matt seems to feel the same, which is why we both look equally annoyed at my phone when it rings, interrupting our conversation about musical instruments.
I fish the device from my purse and look at the screen that reads Georgia Wolf, just below the time—6:43pm. My free hand comes up to slap my forehead as the word crap rolls off of my tongue.
Matt sits straighter in his seat and pulls his brows together as he looks at me. I ask, “Could you ask for the check?” which deepens his frown. Regardless, he nods, and turns his face to look for Anna.
I press the answer button and bring the device to my ear. “Hey, Mamaw.”
“Thank God, you’re alive. We’ve been waiting you for almost three hours. I was starting to worry.”
I drop my arm to the table and then let my head fall over it. “I’m sorry. I’m okay, just got distracted and forgot.”
Georgia makes that “mmmm” sound that is all too familiar, and lets me know that gossip about my lunch with Matt is already spreading. Annoyed and afraid she’ll start asking questions while I’m sitting across from Matt, I let her know I’ll be there shortly. We talk a little more, though “talking” is a loose term, since I mostly listen to her assuring me that if my reasons for forgetting are good, then I shouldn’t hurry.
When I end the call and raise my head to look at Matt, he’s watching me with worry in his eyes. He tilts his head and points an index finger at me. “No knocking the noggin.”
It makes me laugh, and raise my head from my arms.
“Was that your mother?”
“Yes and no.” His brows pull together in confusion, so I explain. “That was Tanie’s mom, Georgia, but since my mother hasn’t been in the picture since I was five, she and Gammy took up that role.”
Matt’s brows rise. “Oh. So what happened?”
It’s not that I have a problem with talking about my mother—I don’t. But we agreed on not talking about the past right now. Besides, we have very little time together before I have to run to the Wolfs’, and I don’t want to waste these last precious seconds talking about my mommy issues. So my reply comes out dry. “She left.”
He tucks his hair behind his ear. “I’m sorry.” Unlike most people who’ve said those words to me,
he says it with honesty, and for that reason I reply with an equally honest smile. “But what I meant was, what happened just now?”
I blink a couple of times as that information sinks in, then I giggle and explain. “Well, tomorrow is Tanie’s college graduation, and they’ll throw a party for her on Sunday. I promised I’d go help decorate, and I completely forgot.”
With a mischievous look on his face, Matt points his thumb at himself, silently asking if it’s his fault. I give a vigorous nod that makes his usual smug expression even smugger as he leans forward to touch my hand. He laces his fingers with mine, and brings our joined hands up toward his face. Twisting our wrists so my hand is facing him, he kisses it.
“I’m definitely not sorry I kept you, but I wish you didn’t have to go.”
For the millionth time in the past twenty-four hours, I melt over him, and wish I could stay. I wish it wasn’t the first weekend I’d taken off in nearly two months, because with everything that will happen in the next two days I have no idea when I’ll get to see him again, and I hate it.
“What you thinking about?” he asks, looking at the fingernail I didn’t realize I was tapping over the table.
I like that he remembers that it means I’m thinking. I like that he cares.
“Well, I was thinking that if I showed up at the Wolfs’ with an extra set of hands, they wouldn’t give me crap for being late.”
The moment the words escape my lips, a pleased gleam settles in his eyes. He brings his free hand up to his chin and places his index finger in front of his lips, looking into the distance for a second. “An extra set of hands would definitely make up for the lost time. The problem is finding someone willing to let you chop off their arms.”
I want to laugh at his silly humor that is so like my own, but right now I’d rather play along.
After a long, distressed breath, I press my lips together and frown. “Finding a doctor willing to attach them to my body won’t be an easy task, either.”
“And I don’t think insurance will cover that procedure.”
I close my eyes, hoping it will make me look pensive as I try not to smile. When I open them, the apples of his cheeks are almost at his eye line, proof of a huge grin.
The Reason I Stay Page 11