Page 31 of Dining for Love

“Yes.” But his eyes are firmly on me as he speaks. It doesn’t take a genius to know he’s not talking about the view. He threads his fingers through my hair, and even though the rational part of me insists on all of this stopping immediately, I can’t help but close my eyes and hum with pleasure.

“Is this what Midnight feels every time you touch him? No wonder you’re the better parent.”

His fingers don’t stop. “Willa. Let me take you out. For a real date.” He pauses. “Though I do like this—you can’t run away from me here.”

My cheeks heat. “I don’t know how to act around you. I told you, you’re scary.”

His eyes soften, their green hue suddenly beyond vibrant as we move quickly through the bottom and come to a halt halfway up for a second rotation. “I am the farthest thing from scary, Willa.”

I snort. “Lies.”

He runs a finger from the top of my forehead down the slope of my nose, then to my lips and chin. “I don’t want to scare you. I want to take you on a date.” He grins. “There’s a big difference.”

How does this man, this gorgeous man with more muscles than I can fathom, want to go on a date with me? None of it makes sense. I’m the girl who no one ever wanted to date in school. Who relied almost exclusively on tourists to get any sort of experience growing up. Who even now couldn’t catch a guy’s interest if my life depended on it. Yet here’s the most unbelievably good-looking man on the freaking planet, sitting in a tiny metal seat on a Ferris Wheel with me, kissing me and asking me out.

Reid smiles again, this time popping a dimple, and I sigh. “You’re doing that on purpose.”

He widens his eyes innocently. “Me? Doing what?”

I shove at his chest, and he captures it there, flattening my palm against a pec muscle. Holy crap, it’s so freaking firm. I’d pass out if I ever got a look at his chest. His hand is warm. His smile is sincere. His eyes…they’ll be the death of me, all twinkly and gorgeous and fracturing my resolve with every passing minute.

“Say yes, Willa.”

And it’s stupid, because I know that whatever this is, it won’t go anywhere, but I nod. “Yes.”

Then he kisses me again, and I don’t bother fighting the butterflies that launch inside my belly.

After three rotations, we get off the Ferris Wheel. Reid reaches for my hand, linking our fingers together and leading me to where Matty and Goldie wait on us.

Goldie looks at our joined hands and meets my eyes, smiling broadly. “How was the ride?”

“You know how it was,” I say, not willing to let her off the hook.

Matty laughs. “It’s weird. Once you guys got on the ride, I found my tickets.”

“So weird,” I deadpan.

“Anyway,” Goldie drawls, brandishing the fair’s schedule on her phone, “there’s a banana derby happening in fifteen minutes, so you know what I want to do.”

Reid glances down at me, then the others. “A banana derby?”

“Where monkeys wear tiny jockey outfits to ride dogs and they race,” Matty supplies, seeing the confusion on Reid’s face. “Probably not fancy enough for a city boy like you to have experienced.”

Reid laughs delightedly. “Oh, I am in. Lead me to the monkeys.”

“I should note that this particular fair has been certified as treating the monkeys and dogs well,” Matty points out. “Last year, I even did an annual exam on all of them when the fair was here.”

“Of course you did,” I smile. “Your bleeding heart would have run them out of town if it were any other way.”

“It’s our duty to speak for those who can’t speak for themselves,” he says. “And on that note, let’s go watch ourselves a race!”

We spend hours at the fair. The banana derby is funny andcute, as always, but watching Reid see it for the first time is absolutely one of my new favorite things. I can see the little kid he must have been, in the way his eyes glitter with excitement and pure joy, because again, monkeys are riding dogs around a little track in a race, and how is that not the best thing ever?

We wait in line for Reid to get a picture with the winning monkey, and he then proceeds to absolutely crush Matty in the games tent. Matty protests the unfairness of the water-gun balloon race, but after Reid lets him pick the stuffed animal to take as his own prize, he relents. “Fine. You’re a better shot than me.”

Reid laughs. “I’m a cop, man. If I weren’t a better shot than a veterinarian, I’d be ashamed of myself.”

“Yeah, well, I’m a better shot-giver, so there’s that,” Matty grumbles.

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