Page 93 of Cream and Punishment
He appeared from the end of the hallway, fastening the button on a blue plaid shirt that made his skin glow. “Yougot a new throw pillow.” He passed me the dapper ravioli, his eyes smoldering. “I figured I’d pick something more useful for you than flowers. Though if you’d prefer a bouquet…”
“No,” I blurted, hugging the ravioli to my chest. “Definitely not. This is perfect, Max. Thank you.” As much as I liked flowers, I’d take a novelty throw pillow any day. “What should we name him?”
Max squinted at the pillow. “Hmm. I’m thinking he looks like a George to me but make it Italian. So, Giorgio.”
“I love it.”
And, really, what wasn’t to like? It was pasta, cute, huggable, and did I mention it waspasta?
“Giorgio, it is.” Max smiled, his eyes searing into me until heat curled in my gut. “You look beautiful tonight, Dekker.”
“Oh, uh, thank you. So do you.” I cringed. “Handsome, I mean. You look handsome.”
“But not beautiful?”
I arched an eyebrow. “Do youwantto be considered beautiful?”
“Of course.” He winked and ran his fingers through his hair to style it. “Did you see me in that wedding dress? My sister’s pageant competitors would’ve resigned on the spot.”
I laughed, my awkwardness and embarrassment swept away and forgotten like only he could make me do. “I can’t argue with that.” I gestured to the couch. “Is it okay if I leave Giorgio here during the date?”
His eyes darkened until my pulse thumped against my ears. “You planning on coming back here at the end of the night?”
The offer was more tempting than tiramisu. The very thought lit fireworks inside my chest and made me forget my name.
I settled on a smile that might’ve been coy, if you squinted or looked at it sideways. “Let’s see how your wooing goes first, Mr. Casanova.”
“In that case” —he held out one hand and bowed slightly— “may I hold your hand, milady?”
I grinned, accepting immediately. Self-control, who? Never heard of her. “Milady? Did you get that from the book?”
“That depends. Is it successfully wooing you?”
“Hm, hard to say.”
It wasn’t. It was stupidly easy to say, actually. All he had to do was exist the way he was, and I was wooed to Timbuktu.
We made it out to the hall, hand-in-hand like peanut butter and brownies. A divine combination if ever there were one. And when we made it to the date location and intertwined our fingers again, I could’ve kicked the bucket then and there and had no regrets.
Detroit Axe–Corktown and The Yard was the brilliant combination of all things awesome. Max had let me know where we were going this morning, so I’d have time to stalk the place on Google and decide what food I’d order ahead of time. The one Yelp review I’d read while I was at it had been glowing. And really, when you could throw hatchets, get tacos and drinks, and play board or card games all in the same place, how could you go wrong?
You couldn’t, that’s how.
We made our way inside, passing the stacks of cut wood and the charming patio dining area. I stopped short, jaw dropping as I took it all in. The pictures online had boasted giant game pieces and dice hanging from the ceiling, along with the carved wooden throne that had hatchets arranged to form wings spreading out the sides, so I knew it was going to be cool. Seeing it in person, though, was a whole different story.
“You’re not chickening out on me, are you?” Max teased, nodding at the hatchet throne.
“In your dreams.”
Not even an army of telemarketing raisins could’ve stopped me. And that’s saying something, since telemarketers were only a step or two below Dolores Umbridge fromHarry Potteron my list of who I’d most like to fight with nunchucks.
Don’t ask me why Lex and I decided that was an essential list to create when we were in high school, but I still stood by my choices years later.
“I’d tell you more about my dreams with you in them, but my mama raised a gentleman.”
My face flamed, and my jaw dropped. “Maximiliano Fuentes, we are inpublic.”
He grinned devilishly. “I dream about us decorating a cake together, Chef. Get your mind out of the gutter.”
