Page 7 of Stolen Kiss

“No, no. I’m okay if we have to wait a bit.” It’s not like I could eat anything right now anyway.

“Why don’t we grab a drink at the bar? I’m sure it won’t be much longer before they have a table for us.” Jeremiah grabs hold of my hand and leads us to the back of the restaurant.

I’m a little taken back when he slides the stool out for me. Seriously? I didn’t even know guys still did this sort of thing.

My heart begins to race when he scoots his own stool closer, making it easier for us to have a conversation. Though the sounds are a bit muffled in here, his closeness is comforting. Even though he’s still a stranger, I like what I see so far.

“I think I’ll have a water,” I tell the bartender when he places the napkin down in front of me. I hadn’t given much thought about who would pay for our meal today, so, if by chance, we end up splitting the check, I’d like to keep mine as cheap as possible.

“Are you sure?” Placing his hand on top of mine, he begins to rub the side of my thumb with his own. Then he looks at the bartender and says, “Whatever she wants. It’s on me.”

I feel my cheeks flush. I don’t recall any man buying me a drink. “If you insist. How about cranberry with a splash of vodka?”

“I’ll have the same,” he says and pulls out his wallet for the bartender to start a tab.

“I don’t know if they told you up front, but you folks can order your food here or you can wait for a table. It’s up to you.” The bartender holds two menus in his hand should we decide to stay here instead.

I shrug my shoulders. “I’m okay with that if you are.”

“Me too,” Jeremiah says and hands me one of the menus.

The afternoon passes way too quickly and before either of us realize it, the sun is slowly working its way behind the trees. I’ve learned a lot about my soon-to-be husband, and it’s been a joy listening to him talk about the places he’s vacationed, his friend Jim, and his upcoming possible promotion. Me, on the other hand, there’s not too much to share, even though he’s made a point to always turn the conversation back to me.

As we’re walking out to our cars, we discuss seeing each other again.

“Would tomorrow be too soon?” he asks.

“I’d like that.” Half expecting him to kiss me on the cheek before we part ways, I’m a little disappointed when he reaches over for a hug. I shouldn’t be, because he’s been every bit of the perfect gentleman, but it makes me doubt if he’s as thrilled with this arrangement now that we’ve had a chance to get to know one another.

“Tomorrow,” he says and lets go of my hand.

I leave a message for Miriah to call me on the drive home—I’m dying to tell someone about our afternoon together—and I’m saddened that she hasn’t returned my call by the time I arrive at my place. Now that I’ve had time to process things, I still think this whole thing is absurd. If Jeremiah is such a great guy, then why is he still single?

The phone rings as soon as I step out of the shower and I rush to answer it before the call cuts off. With the towel wrapped around me, I blurt a little too excitedly, “What took you so long to call me back?”

“Excuse me?”

I recognize Jeremiah’s voice and my cheeks redden almost immediately. “I thought you were Mariah.”

“If you need me to let you go—”

I curl up on the bed and press the phone to my ear. “I’ll catch up with her sometime tomorrow.”

Jeremiah

____________

“Where would you like for us to live once we’re married?” I never really gave it much thought until earlier today when I was looking over my employee benefits. I know our situation is only temporary, but I feel it’s something we should definitely discuss.

“Hmm, your place, I suppose.” Peyton tilts her head as though she’s giving this some serious thought. “Aren’t you worried your company might do a little snooping?”

“There’s always the chance they’ll select someone else. Though I certainly hope not, it’s something we have to think about. This arrangement could end sooner than either of us planned.” Peyton lowers her head and I regret the words that came out of my mouth almost immediately. “I didn’t mean it the way it sounded.”

“I know what you meant,” she says, refusing to look at me.

The last thing I want to do is upset her. “Look, I’m sorry.”

Eventually, she looks up but the hurt is clearly evident on her face. I was afraid something like this might happen—she’s falling for me. I assumed we’d remain friends then go our separate ways afterwards. Never did I anticipate she’d develop feelings. Especially this soon.

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