Love and Sorrow (Small Town Secrets Book 5), стр. 26
If this was a date, I was going to treat it that way.
After fishing around in my closet, I threw three different dresses on the bed, trying to decide which one to wear. I wanted something cute and feminine, something that would go with a pair of shoes I could dance in. Finally, I decided on a black dress with thin straps that ended mid-thigh. Sexy but not too much. Snug but no cleavage, a little revealing but not slutty. Then I picked through my old jewelry that I never wore anymore, settling on a thin silver chain and small silver hoop earrings to match. After that, I put my hair in hot rollers so I could wear it loose. I even wound up painting my fingernails after all was said and done—and when I looked at myself in the full-length mirror next to my closet, I was pleased with my efforts.
Tonight, for the first time in years, I actually looked pretty.
Turning the music down, I snuck into the back room and had a quick smoke, marveling at how different my nails looked painted. Two minutes before seven, the doorbell rang, so I snubbed out the cigarette in the coffee can and darted through the house, hoping I still looked okay.
When I opened the door, I drank Justin in, wondering to myself when my feelings for him had deepened so drastically. Seeing me, he tilted his head to one side. “Damn, Rascal. What the hell did you do?” I relished the pleased expression on his face as his eyes swept down to my shoes and then back up to my face, the grin embedded in his lips and cheeks.
“Thanks a lot. You look good, too.”
Delicious, even. His bangs hung just over his eyebrows at a length that I disliked on most men, but Justin pulled it off. Tonight, he had a little stubble that just made him look almost mysterious and rugged. He wore a blue button-up long-sleeved shirt, black jeans, and black cowboy boots. The man looked good enough to eat—but I wasn’t going to say it.
“Damn, woman, if you want to actually go out, you shouldn’t look this good. I actually don’t want to take you anywhere.”
Smiling, I grabbed the little purse I’d thrown my necessities in and then shut off the music. “I’m ready if you are.”
As I started to walk through the doorway, Justin grabbed me around the waist and kissed me with so much passion, parts of my body started to respond. Not yet.
“Guess we won’t be eating baby back ribs.”
As I locked the door, I asked, “Why? Is that what you had in mind?”
He laughed. “Nah. I’m giving you shit.”
“So where are we going then?”
“You’ll just have to wait and find out, Rascal.” The smile on my face came easily as I wound my hand in his while we walked toward his truck—and I forced myself to not laugh when he opened the door for me. I didn’t know the last time a man had done that, and it was a gesture I neither wanted nor needed. Besides, it wasn’t Justin’s thing—so what was going on here? I sat quietly while Justin walked around and got in the driver’s seat. “I want you to just relax tonight. Okay?”
“All right.” Now I felt a little nervous. “Mind if I smoke?”
“Have I ever minded?”
“No.” But that didn’t mean I was going to start being an inconsiderate jerk. After rolling the window down a little, I took the cigarettes out of that tiny purse and lit one. The cool evening air breezed through the window, brushing my cheek as Justin put the truck in gear and started driving down the street. I loved this time of year. The stifling heat of the summer had eased back to a tolerable warmth, and the evenings were cool—but it hadn’t turned cold enough yet to need a jacket in the evening, so I didn’t have to lug one around. It was a free time of year when I could enjoy being outside without the heat or mosquitoes but also without being wrapped in a heavy coat and still feeling cold. The weather was perfect.
Who was I kidding? I wasn’t able to get outside often enough to even worry about it. Still…I loved the way the air felt at this precise moment.
“Gimme one, wouldja?” Justin rarely smoked. Unlike me, he wasn’t addicted, but he liked having one on occasion. I took one out of my pack, sliding it between his lips. God, the way he smiled at me with that stick between his lips curled my toes. Then I turned the wheel, making a flame jump out of the lighter, and he began sucking on the cigarette as he lifted his left hand up and held it. “I might have to take you out more often, you keep spoilin’ me like that.”
Spoiling him? He had a pretty loose definition of the word. I was the one feeling spoiled this evening.
Grinning, I leaned back, letting my head rest. Years ago, when trucks used to have one long seat, I could have scooted up super close to Justin, nestling my hand between his legs—not actually doing anything, but suggesting the possibility. In his newer truck, though, we both sat in bucket-type seats with a multi-purpose storage unit fitted in between us. Practical but not much fun.
As Justin drove through town, neither of us said much. After a while, as he smashed the half-smoked cigarette in the ashtray, he asked, “You like seafood, don’t ya?”
“Yeah.”
“Good.” Then he pulled the truck to the right, turning into the parking lot of a place called Jack’s, one of the newer restaurants in town, a place known for its fresh seafood and high prices. Until now, I hadn’t had the opportunity to eat there.
I really wanted to ask Justin if he could afford it,