Page 38 of It's a Date (Again)

His lips press firmly together, like he’s disappointed or worried. I feel the same way but there’s nothing I can do about it. They’ll come back when they’re ready to come back, I guess.

“Why? Is there anything you’d like to refresh my memory on?” My question comes out a little flirtatious, which I didn’t mean for it to. Perhaps like finding the coffee shop this morning and ordering my usual and typing in my password, it too is like muscle memory.

“Maybe.” The corner of his lip perks up, and he runs a hand over his head, taming flyaways. I think he might be flirting back.

I lift my chin, delivering a small smile. “Can you remind me of the best date we’ve had?”

Tyler lowers his head briefly as though he’s thinking it over. When he lifts it, his cheeks are ruddy, and a grin has settled on his face. “It would have to be the date we had about a week or so ago. We went for a long walk stopping at stores, bars, and restaurants in the various surrounding neighborhoods. We drank, ate, and shopped our way through Wicker Park, West Town, Fulton Market, and the West Loop.Total, I think we walked well over five miles. It was great, just complete spontaneity. We ended up back at your place with two bottles of wine and leftover food.” His grin grows a little bigger. “Then I left the next morning.” Tyler takes a large bite out of his sandwich.

I raise my brow. “It seems like you skipped over some of that date.”

“I’d rather you remember than for me to tell you.”

I frown slightly. “That might not be an option.”

What if I never remember?I need him to know that’s a possibility, a rare one, but still one. I also want to get an idea of how far I went with him. Has my relationship with Tyler progressed on an intimate level further than the others? It doesn’t necessarily mean that he and I have a deeper connection, but I guess it’ll tell me more about us.

“Well.” He pauses for a moment. “We slept together,” he says with a serious yet smoldering look.

“Oh,” I say. I skim over his large hands, imagining them on me, pressing into my skin, maybe even tugging on my hair if that’s what I’m into. The top of my head tingles, so I assume I must be. “Did you enjoy me—I mean, it?” I stammer.

“Would you hold it against me if I said yes?”

I smile faintly. “Is that a line?”

“Not at all. I don’t even know any cheesy pickup lines.” He studies my face. “Are you feeling tired?”

“No? Why?” I pull my head back.

“Because you’ve been running through my mind all day.” He lets out a husky laugh.

I giggle and pat the side of his arm. It’s like a rock, sculpted and hard. Did he pick me up with those muscular arms? I imagine he did. Maybe he threw me on the bed, or perhaps he set me down gently. His eyes tell me it was gentle and tender. But his long dark hair that’s tied in a bun tells me he pulled it loose and then tossed me. I take another bite of my sandwich to distract my mind from playing out every possiblescenario I can conjure up. It’s a blank canvas inside my head currently, so I could sit here daydreaming up a plethora of sexual possibilities.

“So, what do we have in common?” I ask with a smile.Aside from sexual attraction ...but I don’t say that part out loud.

He finishes chewing the last of his food and wipes his mouth with a napkin. “Let’s see. We both are adventurous, which I love. You’re always down for anything, like axe throwing, wandering the neighborhoods, a haunted house, an escape room, and an afternoon trip to the Indiana Dunes.”

“We’ve done all of those?”

He nods. “Oh yes, and we had a blast every time.”

“I wish I remembered.” I let out a quiet sigh.

Tyler leans in and places his hand on mine. “Me too,” he whispers. His forehead puckers as though he’s picturing our dates in his head. “We also love wine, which you introduced me to. I was more of a beer drinker before you came into my life. But I’m digging the Paso Robles reds. And you love my dog, so we both love my dog.” He grins.

I smile back. “Aww, you have a dog? What kind and what’s its name?”

“A golden retriever, and his name is Toby.”

“I’d love to meet him—I mean, see him again.” I shake my head. “Sorry.”

“No need to be sorry. He adores you, and of course we’ll swing by my place before or after our date this week.” His fingers graze against mine.

“I’d like that.”

Our eyes lock and neither of us utters a word. It’s time for our bodies to take over and speak the language they know best. His mouth parts as he leans forward. My stomach somersaults with anticipation and nervousness. But I remind myself I probably wasn’t nervous before I lost my memory. Our lips lock, and somehow, I can feel his hands all over me, even though they’re not. Muscle memory, I think. Or maybe it’s just my imagination. The kiss is sweet and warm and tender. His lipsare soft, moist, and patient. I don’t want it to end. I bring my hands to his face, pulling him even closer. My fingers graze his surprisingly soft facial hair. He must condition it or something. I kiss him a little harder.

The sound of someone clearing their throat stops us instantly. We pull away from one another, and I glance over at the back deck. Robbie stands there dressed in casual business attire, a white collared shirt, a pair of navy-blue dress pants, and camel-colored oxford shoes. A messenger bag hangs from one shoulder. He watches both of us as we wipe at our mouths and try to appear nonchalant.

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