Page 80 of Twisted Hearts

My cheeks burned.

“Yeah,” I muttered quietly so Shawn couldn’t hear. “He’s all right.”

Jillian snorted and took a drink from her wine. “That looks like more than like.”

“He’s a good guy.” One with a bit of a temper, definite hardheadedness, and a protective streak that ran as deep as the ocean.

But his touch made my body sing, and he made me laugh. Even if we didn’t work out long term, I decided he was worth the adventure. But God, I hoped we lasted.

“Oh…I knowthatlook,” Jillian teased, and again, I glanced back at her.

I’d been staring at the door to my bedroom, lost in thought.

“Enough,” I scolded. “But I do have to go. I still need to shower before we head out to dinner.”

“Got it.” Her teasing grin was wiped away by something more serious. “But keep me posted, okay? Even just a text every few days so I know you’re okay? I’m worried about you.”

“I will. Love you.”

Shawn opened the door right after I ended the call, pulling down another tight-fitting t-shirt, gray this time. It seemed all he owned were t-shirts.

Not that I was complaining. I enjoyed seeing the way they molded to his chest and abs.

“How’s Jillian?”

“Good. Bored. Worried about me.”

“She’s a good friend.”

I left my phone on the table and stood, brushing my hands down my jeans as I did. “To be honest, I think she’s the only real friend I’ve ever had.” Which was pathetic. I was almost twenty-eight years old.

Shawn opened his mouth like he wanted to say something, and then he closed it. “Go shower. I’m starving.”

It wasn’t what he had been about to say, but since I had to shower and I was starving too, I hopped to it. I’d spent enough hours evaluating my life and my decisions; I didn’t need to do that tonight.

No.

Tonight, I was going on a date with Shawn.

Ourfirstdate.

* * *

He took me to a steakhouse.Not the kind with white tablecloths, candle centerpieces, and meals served in courses with seven different forks to choose from. It was the kind where you grab a bucket of peanuts when you walk in, the female servers wear cutoff denim shorts and cowboy boots, and the males wear jeans that look made custom for their thighs and backsides.

It was awesome. Low-key, casual, and not at all like the stuffy kind of upscale restaurants I was used to.

Country music blared through speakers, barely muting the sounds of conversation all around us as we sat in high-back wooden booths. My feet tapped to the beat, and more than once I scanned the restaurant, wishing there was some kind of dance floor while Shawn and I kept conversation lighthearted until we ordered our drinks and meals.

“You keep looking around and smiling,” Shawn said. He grinned at me across the table, one brow lifted in question. “What’s going on?”

“It’s going to sound stupid.” I realigned my steak knife and forks even though they were already set perfectly.

“Try me.”

I licked my lips. “I was just thinking how different restaurants like this are from the ones my parents always made us go to.”

“How so?”

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