Page 31 of Keep You Close

“Gotta get your leg all healed up,” I said. “Then we could go. Short of pulling you on a sled, I don’t think it would be possible now,” I teased. “Or, you know, you could go with your family or friends. Or even, ah, I could drop you off there to—“

“AJ,” he cut me off, head cocked to the side, watching me with those penetrative eyes. “I’d love to go to the beach with you as soon as I can bear some weight again.”

Luckily, our food arrived, saving me from being embarrassed that I’d basically asked the man on a date. Even if it was just a, you know, friend date. Because Atlas had never made a pass at me. Or even insinuated anything.

The conversation veered more to food then, and local sights we could see after we finished eating.

“No, come on,” I said, trying to pull the check folder out of his hand. “You’ve been paying for everything. Let me get this.” Even if the total was probably going to give me a bellyache.

“Absolutely fucking not,” he said, slipping his card into it, and holding it out to the server.

“The tip then.”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“Because it would be a cold day in hell that I let a woman pay for the meal. And I don’t give a fuck how sexist that might be,” he added with that boyish smirk of his.

We left the restaurant, walking around the little town until, suddenly, Atlas stopped rolling.

“Oh, no. Did the battery die?” I asked, calculating how far the car was.

“No. But your feet are killing you,” he said, slipping up one of the arms of the chair. “Hop on.”

“What? No!” I said, belly flip-flopping.

Because there was no way. I was struggling enough just helping him transfer. Sitting on his lap would be torture.

“Yes,” he said, patting his legs.

“I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“It’s only… meant for one person.”

“It holds four-fifty,” he said, giving me a What else you got? look. “You’re gonna have blisters,” he added.

He wasn’t wrong.

My feet were killing me.

There was a telltale burning pain at the pad under my toes that, from experience, I knew would blister.

“I can make it.”

“Sweetheart, sit down,” he said, holding an arm out.

And, God, I wanted to.

Even if it was a terrible idea.

Taking a deep breath, I did what I told myself I wouldn’t.

I turned.

And I sat on his lap.

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