Page 69 of It's a Date (Again)

Tyler taps his finger against his chin. “If you don’t hit it, you have to give me a kiss right here,” he says, pointing to his cheek.

I raise my brow. “Oh, you’re betting against me?”

“No, never. Because if you hit it, you have to kiss me right here.” He taps his finger against his lips.

“Smooth, Tyler.”

He grins.

“But you’ve got yourself a deal.”

His grin widens as he backs away. “Get up there and hit that bull’s-eye.”

I toe the line, raise the axe over my head, and fling it at the target. Surprisingly, it hits dead center. I jump up and down with joy. When I turn around, Tyler is standing right behind me with the biggest smile on his face.

“You must really want to kiss me,” he says in a sultry and teasing voice.

“I guess I do.” I shrug. Our eyes meet and we stare at one another for a moment before leaning in. His lips are warm and soft, practically melting into mine. His hands press against my lower back as he draws me in closer. My skin tingles and my heart rate quickens. I can’t help but compare his kisses to Nash’s. His are passionate and hungry, where Nash’s are sweet and gentle. When we pull apart, we’re both beaming.

“We should make more bets like that,” Tyler says.

I pat my hand against his chest playfully. “I don’t mind winning,” I tease.

“And I don’t mind losing.” He bends down and plants a quick kiss on my lips. “Want to get out of here?” he whispers.

I smile up at him and nod.

Tyler pushes his front door open and flips the light switch. A dog bark echoes from deep in the apartment. His place is open concept and modern with white walls and chrome finishes. Most of his furniture is made of dark cherrywood—the TV stand, coffee table, and kitchen stools.I wonder if he built them himself. The couch is plush and covered in throw blankets and pillows. Despite the modern appearance and floor-to-ceiling windows, Tyler’s apartment is cozy and warm.

“Toby,” Tyler calls out as he places a large, hot Neapolitan-style pizza on the island counter. Dog nails click along the hardwood floor, and a moment later a golden retriever trots in. His tail wags as he runs to Tyler. Toby jumps up, his paws landing on Tyler’s stomach. Tyler rubs his ears and tells him he’s a good boy. When the dog notices me, he jumps down and runs to my side, smelling my shoes and pressing his body against my legs. I pet his head and scratch his chin.

“Good boy,” I say. “Oh, you like the chin scratchies?”

“He loves all the pets, scratches, and rubs,” Tyler says. He kicks off his shoes and hangs his jacket on a wall hook. Turning back to me, he asks, “Can I take yours?”

I nod and pull it off, revealing my V-neck long-sleeve top. When he finishes hanging it up, he gestures to his home. “So, this is the kitchen and living room.”

“I like it,” I say.

“I know. That’s what you said last time,” Tyler says with a small smile.

I pull my lips in and nod, unsure as to how I should respond. Toby barks.

“Someone knows their dinner is late,” he says. “Come on. Let’s get you some food, boy.”

Tyler walks to the pantry and scoops dog food into a dish. He brings it to the sink and quickly splashes it with water before setting it down on the floor. Toby sits and waits for permission.

“Okay,” he says, and the dog dives mouth first into his food dish.

He clasps his hands together. “Now, time to feed you.”

I let out a laugh and walk a couple of steps into the apartment, surveying the place, searching for familiarity, but there is none. I wish I could remember being here. Actually, I wish I could remember beinganywhere before the accident. Tyler pulls two plates from the cupboard and offers me something to drink. I tell him water’s fine. He pours a glass of water, pops the cap off a beer for himself, and flips open the pizza box. It’s a margherita pizza. The gooey cheese glistens, and the smell of fresh basil wafts in the air. We serve ourselves, and I follow him into the living room, grabbing a seat on the couch.

“How is it?” Tyler asks after I take my first bite.

“Really good.” The cheese stretches a few inches in length before finally splitting off from the slice.

“Excellent,” he says, biting into his.

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