Page 3 of How Dare You

My brows lift. “That’s a quick judgment.”

“Doesn’t make it wrong.”

“No, it doesn’t,” I admit quietly as I set my drink down.

He laughs, reaching over to grip the seat of my barstool and using it to pull me closer to him. My mouth opens in surprise, and when I look up at him I see his self-satisfied smile. “There, now I can see your twilight eyes even better.”

We’re close enough now that my hand brushes his thigh when I adjust the hem of my navy sheath dress. “Is twilight truly what you’re going with? Didn’t you say that was intentionally cheesy?”

“They are the color of twilight,” he tilts his head, bringing his eyes in line with mine, “cheesy or not.”

I like that a little too much. Needing to change the subject, I ask, “You’re from Texas, right?” He nods in response. “What brings you to Palm Springs?”

“My friend lives out here,” he answers. “He’s a local I met on vacation when we were kids. We stayed friends, and he convinced me to—”

His story is cut off when the bartender asks for our food order. I should finish my one drink and go home like I planned, but instead I agree to split a couple of appetizers with Rhett. His earnest questions and overwhelming confidence draw me in, turning one drink into three.

The stress of finances, winning projects, difficulty with Trina, and running Friday West melts off me. For the first time in a long time, my mind isn’t working overtime in the background to fix my problems, but I equate that more to the company than the booze.

As our final drinks dwindle, my new date asks, “You want to go one more place with me?” There is a playful lilt in his question.

One more place? I check my watch, and I am stunned to find it’s well after eleven. One more place would inevitably be his hotel room. I’m hours past the time I should have been in bed with my face washed, skincare applied, and a hot mug of herbal tea in hand. Instead I’m finishing my fourth martini of the evening and considering a third location with a charming stranger. He runs a hand through his hair, pushing the long strands out of his gray eyes, a few inevitably falling right back into their original places. He might be the most beautiful man I’ve ever had drinks with. Would his hotel room be such a bad thing?

“Did I lose you up there?” His mouth widens into that knee-weakening smile again, as he nods toward my head.

“I have work in the morning. I should get home.” I should have gotten home hours ago.

He laughs lightly. “Didn’t ask what you should do. I asked what you want.”

“It’s way past my bedtime.” I swallow down the last sip of my drink. “I need to—”

“What do you want?” he interrupts.

I want to spend more time with him. I want to be in a place where I could entertain this kind of attraction. Having an incredible conversation on an impromptu first date is something worth indulging in, but I can’t afford to take my eye off the ball for even a second. If I’m not sharp tomorrow, I could show up late to my jobsite, disappoint my client, or botch the presentation I have in the afternoon. It’s not as simple as doing what I want. Every action has consequences.

“The right choice is going home to get some rest,” he says. I’m briefly disappointed when it seems he’s backing down quickly, but he adds, “What if you make the wrong choice?”

“I don’t do the wrong thing.”

His responding laugh is a full sound that shakes his wide shoulders. “Devon, live a little. Please?” That is the second time he’s said my name and the second time he’s said please. The combination plus his intense commitment to eye contact almost has me giving in, but he doesn’t rush me as I roll my options over.

Instead, he tucks his fingers behind one of my knees, rubbing his thumb in soothing circles on my skin as he leans forward just enough to have me licking my lips, wondering what kissing him would be like.

It’s one night. What could one little break from reality cost me? I nod. “Yes.”

He’s quick to pay our bill and call a ride-share, maybe afraid I’ll change my mind. The car drops us off on the back side of a country club, nowhere near a hotel or even a house that could be a short-term rental. “You sure this is where you wanted us to go?” I ask.

He smiles, tucking my hand into his like it’s the most natural thing in the world. “Yeah, security doesn’t patrol this side like they should. Come on.”

“Why do you know that?” I question him, but don’t let go of his hand or protest when he leads me onto the golf course, the grass freshly wet from late-night sprinklers and lit only by the sliver of moon.

“Been golfing here with my friend, Bradley, since we were kids.” The explanation doesn’t bring me any closer to understanding our purpose here. He keeps us on the cart paths and off the greens as we wind through hole after hole of the golf course, never letting go of my hand.

“Where are we going?” I whisper-shout when I realize we’ve almost cut across the entire course.

He squeezes my hand, smiling over his shoulder at me. “Hopefully somewhere I’ll finally get that smile out of you.”

I arch a brow in response. The only reason he hasn’t seen me smile yet is because he made it a challenge for me to keep it to myself. This non-date date is the most fun I’ve had in ages.

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