Page 63 of Dashing for Love

“I like,” I croak. Then I clear my throat. “You’re wearing that to Mexican?”

She laughs. “Matty, I’ve worn this around you before. Literally. This exact same outfit.”

“Well, that settles it.”

She furrows her brow slightly. “Settles what?”

“That I’m an absolute idiot,” I declare. “Because you look amazing.” I close the distance to her, unable to take it anymore, and pull her to me. She’s in tight, dark denim that flares over platform sandals and a simple yellow tank top, with a flowy sheer yellow shirt on top. I have no idea what to call it, but she embodies effortless beauty. How in the ever-loving hell have I missed her all these years?

Again: an absolute idiot. Me. Very stupid.

She drapes her arms over my shoulders as I run my palms down her sides to rest on her hips, then smirks. “You gonna kiss me, Matty, or just look at me like you’re gobsmacked?”

“Can I do both?”

She threads her fingers through the hair at the nape of my neck. “Kiss me, you fool.”

Gladly.I close the distance and thank whatever heavenly creature was clearly looking over me all these years. Because if I’ve got the chance to make Goldie mine? I need to take it.

In the truck, I keep my hand on her thigh, needing to touch her no matter how insignificant the contact. And in the restaurant, it takes everything I have to sit directly across from her instead of sliding next to her in the booth.

We each order a beer, but when the server walks away to get them, I fix Goldie with a stare. “I’m only having one drink,” I tell her.

She nods, a soft smile on her lips. “Yeah?”

“I don’t want to fall asleep like last time.”

Her eyes twinkle. “You sound awfully confident something’s going to happen.”

I lean forward. “See, that’s where you’re wrong.”

The server returns with our beers, and we order our food: street tacos for Goldie and enchiladas verdes for me. When he leaves, Goldie arches a brow as she pops a chip in her mouth. “How exactly am I wrong?”

I grab a chip and dunk it in the salsa. “I didn’t say anything was going to happen. But you just did.”

She grins. “I most definitely did not.”

“You insinuated it.”

“Youinsinuated it, not me!” Her smile widens.

I shrug. “Guess we’ll just have to see.”

She shakes her head. “I like you like this, you know,” she says, her voice softening.

“Like what?”

“Like…like you’re James. Except you’re Matty.” She breaks eye contact. “I don’t know if that makes sense.”

“It does. And for the record,” I take another chip and swim it through the salsa, “it’s taking everything I have not to reach over and hold your hand right now.”

Bright spots of color appear on her cheeks. “Really?”

“Yes, really.” Then I lower my voice. “I liked it better at Hall’s, where at least we knew Anthony didn’t give a damn about what was going on.”

She smiles in agreement. “He’s something, isn’t he?”

“If by ‘something’ you mean speaks in grunts and short sentences and is so different from Ox and Levi that it’s hardto believe they all came from the same parents, then yes, he’s something.”

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