Page 19 of Wild Hearts

"No problem. If you're not in a hurry, do you wanna get some ice cream? Fall flavors should still be available."

"Sure, where do you want to go?"

He points to a place across the street. “We can meet over there once I’ve unloaded these baskets.”

Nodding, I hop in my car and drive the short distance to the little shop and sit at one of the outdoor tables while waiting for Wes.

It’s a beautiful autumn day. Not too hot or cold. Perfect for a lazy afternoon eating a sweet treat.

Sounds like the perfect date.

But this isn’t a date, right?

He did kiss you, remember?

"Hey, ready for some ice cream?" Wes jogs up to the shop door and opens it for me.

"Well, technically, it's frozen yogurt."

"What's the difference?" He grabs two cups and holds one out to me.

"Um, I actually don't know. One's soft and the other's hard?”

He laughs, his hand dropping to my lower back to gently guide me toward the metal dispensers.

"What flavor are you thinking?"

“I usually get cake batter or a comparable substitute. You?”

“It varies.” We stop at the first lever with a Pumpkin Vanilla label above it. “How about we taste test them all and see where we land?” he asks.

As we fill the tiny paper cups with swirls of frozen yogurt, a few customers stare at us in dismay, but we’re not being disrespectful, and Wes doesn’t seem to care that we’re the center of attention. His focus is on me, encouraging me to relax and have fun.

After adding toppings to our full cups, Wes pays after ignoring my protests, and we return to the table outside, where I study Wes out of the corner of my eye.

Red athletic shorts cling to sturdy thighs while a black tee conforms to his muscular chest. His jacket sleeves are pushed up to his elbows, so colorful tattoos are on full display, and I can't stop my eyes from wandering over them.

I've never seen someone up close and personal with so many tattoos. Yes, I've seen people with sleeves, or even their whole body covered, on the internet or TV, but seeing them this close is breathtaking.

Sure, they make him look badass—something he could pull off without any aid—but some of the lines are so delicate. My fingers itch to reach out and trace them.

Don’t paw the man in public.

One design snakes up his neck before ending right below his ear, and that’s when it becomes obvious that I’ve been caught ogling him as an unfamiliar expression crosses Wes’s face.

Blushing, I cringe in my seat. "Sorry, I didn't mean to stare."

"Go ahead, sweetheart. I don't mind. Just be prepared for the consequences." His rumbled warning sends prickles of awareness down my body.

"What consequences?"

He leans forward until our knees touch. "When I feel those pretty blue eyes on me, it makes me want… things." The back of his hand drifts down my cheek, each rough knuckle caressing my skin before his thumb settles on my bottom lip.

The air hitches in my lungs as his eyes drop to my mouth. Ever so slowly, he brushes his thumb over the sensitive skin, his head bending closer until our mouths are inches apart.

Every breath mingles with mine.

Hot, and sweet from his apple pumpkin frozen yogurt.

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