Page 28 of Love You Truly

“Tell me.”

His grin is persuasive. It’s probably lured countless unsuspecting women into his man cave for a night of debauchery. I have to push down the rogue impulse shouting that I want a night like that. I don’t.

But there’s an innocence about Dash. Unlike Felix who tips his head and looks like a dumb dog, Dash looks like an adorable golden retriever who only wants to please. What the hell? I might as well be honest with him. I’ll probably never see him again, so what’s the difference?

“Those sweet desserts are a little…cute. And I’m not like that. I’m…harder to like than that.”

His expression loses the playfulness, and his mouth settles into a hard line. “Not from where I sit. And if you don’t mind me saying, I dislike that anyone has ever made you feel that way in the past.”

I’m so surprised by his pronouncement that I have nothing to say—none of my normal rebuttal and evidence to prove that I am, in fact, unlikable. In the face of his extreme distaste for that idea, I find myself feeling overruled.

That has never happened before.

He holds his wineglass up to the light. I expect him to take a sip, but instead, he holds it toward me for a toast. “To our first date.”

I huff a laugh. “Ha. First and only, don’t you mean?” I lift my glass to clink with his, but he withdraws his hand, studying me quizzically.

“That wasn’t what I meant. If I’d meant it was our only date, I’d have said.”

A succession of noises erupts from my throat, but none of them turn into actual words. My face heats so much that I start fanning the air around me with one hand and slurp down a big swig of wine with the other before putting the glass down.

“Surely there won’t be a second date. This is just us, you know, making good on the date I asked you on and the whole thing in the bar and all that.”

“Well, I might ask you out again, and then there will be a second date.”

“But…we’re even now. Why would you want to do that?”

He smiles, and I’m momentarily blinded by his straight teeth and that damn dimple. “Because I like you, Marshmallow. You’re different than I expected in the very best of ways. That’s why.”

“But-but…”

Dash reaches his finger out—that long, gorgeous index finger—and places it over my lips so I stop protesting. He brings his glass to the space between us and hands mine to me. Our fingers brush, and I feel the hum of electricity at his touch. It’s enough to calm me down and send my blood racing through my veins at the same time. An addictive combination.

“One more time… to our first date.”

Obediently, I clink my glass against his. “To our first date.”

He gives me a closed-lipped smile that’s full of knowledge or promise about what might follow this first date. And I want all of it. Heaven help me.

CHAPTER 12

Dash

“You want a taste of the eggplant?” I stab a noodle from my Penne alla Norma. “Or are you not into eggplant?”

“Eggplant?” Mallory coughs, and her face turns pink. “Um, I’m into it.”

Swallowing hard, I realize the double entendre. Her blush deepens, and I know I should steer the conversation back to G-rated territory, but I wouldn’t dare. Not when it makes her skin look like that.

I put some penne onto my fork and heap on a chunk of eggplant and smoked mozzarella before extending it toward Mallory. “Bite?”

Her eyes go wide at the suggestion of eating from my fork, but her hesitance lasts only a second. She nods and opens her mouth. Sliding the fork between her lips feels intensely personal, and I try to convince myself it’s not because I’m imagining my cock there instead. I’m a shitty convincer.

I’m also a shitty spoon-feeder because I manage to leave a drip of sauce at the corner of her mouth, so I lift my napkin to dab it away. She follows my motion with her own, dabbing the now-clean spot and looking almost self-conscious as she chews. This isn’t the brash, snooty woman I’m used to seeing at industry events. This one is softer, more real.

Much, much more interesting.

She’s similar to the woman I encountered in the grocery store who was flustered and surrendered to the inevitability of pickle juice. I like this version.

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