Page 45 of The Ruse of Romancing
“Um, yes, but I don’t think I have room for ice cream after all.” I gave a small, forced laugh, trying to distract from the fact that the whole restaurant was going to see more of me than I was comfortable with if we didn’t get to the car soon. I’d worry about finding a way to save things with Allen later. Or maybe I’d book a flight to Utah as soon as I got back to the duplex, run away, and pretend like this was not happening in front of the first man I’d even remotely been interested in in far too long.
Allen continued to watch me for a moment before giving a small shrug and placing a gentle hand on the small of my back to guide me from the restaurant. The gesture placed him on my right side, making it so he helped block my split seam, and I was grateful for his consideration.
I forced my face into a pleasant expression as we thanked the hostess. Reaching the door, I realized we couldn’t both fit through, and I steeled myself to walk into the cool evening without a jacket and with my dress falling apart. While I had wanted to show Allen more of myself tonight, I was thinking more along the lines of telling him some childhood stories, not giving him a peek at my underclothing.
Just as Allen dropped his arm and I moved to step outside, I felt the light pressure of Allen draping his jacket over my shoulders. Startled, I glanced over to see him giving me a knowing look.
“You’re holding your arm so close to your side, I figured you were cold or something,” he said with a wink.
I slipped my arms into the jacket, gratefully accepting its warmth in addition to his discretion. Allen’s incredible scent engulfed me, and I gratefully breathed it in as we walked back to the car, the smell both woodsy and sweet.
“I’m so embarrassed,” I exclaimed, burying my face in his jacket as we settled into his car.
“Why, because you weren’t properly prepared for the weather or because you don’t like seafood? Because I’ll have you know, neither of those are deal-breakers for me.”
Allen pulled the car onto the main road and began driving back toward my rental. I was disappointed that we wouldn’t be getting ice cream, but I didn’t see a way to keep the night going when my dress was literally falling apart at the seams.
“I know you were cold, but do you mind if we still grab ice cream? The place I’m thinking of has a drive-thru. Then we canfind a place to park with a view of the ocean or something. That way you can stay warm and get a sweet treat.”
It was like he’d read my mind, and I felt like I was falling maybe just a little bit in love with the man next to me.
“Sounds perfect.”
We got our ice cream, deciding to eat it in the car at a nearby park instead of trying to find open parking at the beach.
“You know, I’ve been here since Sunday and I still haven’t seen a sunset on the beach,” I said as I took a bite of huckleberry ice cream, savoring the sweet, tangy flavor.
“Now that’s just a tragedy! I’d say we should fix that immediately but...” He trailed off and I wondered if he’d finally mention my ruined dress. He’d been so kind not mentioning it before now, but it could only be avoided for so long.
“But walking on the beach in a ripped dress is probably asking for trouble,” I finished for him. “Thank you for handling it so well. Leave it to me to split my dress on a first date.”
“Believe it or not, this is not the worst wardrobe malfunction I’ve seen on a date. My brother, Grey, actually split his pants once when we were on a double date in high school. He was hiking and snagged a pocket on a tree branch. We were nowhere near the parking lot, so he’d had to hike back the entire way with his underwear showing.” His voice was full of humor as he got lost in the memory, his face growing soft.
“Seriously? You’re not just making that up to make me feel better?” I asked, laughing softly at the picture he painted.
“Trust me, it actually happened! And the best part was Grey just rolled with it. Nothing ever seems to faze my brother.” His voice held an affectionate note as he talked about his brother.
“Does your brother live near you in Idaho?” Allen hadn’t shared much about his personal life or family, and I was curious to learn more.
“No, he’s all the way in Utah with my mom. I’m the rebel who lives far away.” He took a deep breath, seeming to consider his words before speaking. “After my dad passed away, it was hard to be around them. I needed space to grieve and figure out who I was.”
“I’m so sorry for your loss,” I said, patting his knee since both of his hands were occupied with his ice cream and spoon.
Allen shrugged, a gesture meant to appear casual, but that seemed to carry the weight of the world.
“It happened a long time ago. My dad was the biggest supporter of my art. His passing was part of why I decided to become a graphic designer, make him proud and prove to the world that I could do it, that I could succeed.”
“That’s a lot of pressure to put on yourself,” I said softly as I watched him use his spoon to draw patterns in his ice cream.
“What’s life without a little pressure? I’m sure you understand that better than most.” He pointed his spoon at me to underscore his point.
“True, though that amount of pressure’s got to be hard and lonely without a solid support system nearby.”
“I make it work,” he said softly. “And just because they aren’t close, doesn’t mean Grey and my mom don’t cheer me on.”
“Tell me about them.”
Time passed quickly as Allen shared stories about his family and the trouble he used to get in with his brother. Before I knew it, my ice cream was gone and I was shifting in my seat trying to get comfortable, loath to see the evening end but desperate to get out of my ruined Doris Day dress and into something less restrictive.
