Page 49 of Anchored Love
“No,” I answered as he handed me my clutch.
“Good. We have a reservation.”
With one more warning to Mooch, I locked the door.
He walked me to his forest green sleek Audi A5 and opened the passenger door. I slid into the tan leather seat, noting that Mason kept his car immaculately clean, or he had gotten it detailed for our date. It was impeccable.
I watched him stroll around the front of the car to the driver’s side. The second he started the car, classic rock belted from the speakers. The music sounded like something my dad would listen to, and the thought made me smile. I took it as a sign that he sent his blessing from above, and he approved of Mason.
“Buckle up, sweetheart,” he warned, peeling out of my driveway so fast my head shot back against the headrest. The purr of the engine turned my insides to goo. There was something about hot guys and fast cars that turned me on.
Mason held my hand part of the way as he drove, brushing his thumb lazily across my knuckles.
Once parked downtown, Mason opened my door and escorted me to The Brickyard, a yummy steakhouse that had live music on the weekends.
He gave his name to the hostess, and we were led to a table for four, sitting on opposite sides facing one another. The atmosphere was hip but chic. Known for dueling pianos, the music filtered through the background. We ordered our drinks, and Mason grabbed my hand over the table once we had decided what we both wanted off the menu. “I missed you more than I imagined I would,” he confessed.
“You did?” I knew Mason had a strong attraction to me, but with the way he looked at me just then I started to think it went much deeper than physical attraction. That maybe there could be much more than lust between us.
“You know how I feel about you, Ev. You’re gorgeous, funny, kind, and smart. I’d be a damn fool not to pursue this.”
“I missed you too. Not gonna lie. I spent the entire week avoiding you.”
“So I’m not paranoid.” He chuckled.
I shook my head. “No.” Our drinks were placed before us, and we ordered our meal.
“You’re a hard nut to crack, babe, but I’m going to put in the work.”
“You calling me difficult?”
“Nope. Stubborn maybe, but worth it.”
“Ha.” I drank my wine, and he downed a hard pull of his beer. “Do you think Drake would be okay with you dating me?”
“I like your brother, but we’re adults, and I don’t need his permission; though, I’d hope he saw that I’ll treat you right. It was damn hard at times for me to keep my hands off you. I didn’t want to grope and molest you in front of him, but even if he came to me and asked me to stay away, I’d tell him no. I know what I want, Everly. I want you. I’m a man who goes after what I want, and usually I get it.”
I gulped. His words were nice to hear but also serious. Mason wasn’t screwing around, and I hoped I was ready for what he was offering me.
* * *
After dinner,we went for drinks at Humpin’ Hannah’s, a trendy bar with bras hanging from the ceiling. Crowded with bodies pressed wall-to-wall like sardines, music thumped through the club and vibrated through my body. People danced, bumping and grinding provocatively against one another without a care in the world. Hips gyrated and booties twerked as Mason led me through the sea of club-goers, his hand pressed to the small of my back. While not my usual scene, I was curious why Mason chose this bar. It wasn’t as though we could have a conversation.
We ordered a couple of beers as I stared up at the array of bras hanging from the ceiling, wondering if we had traveled back in time to my college days. “What are we doing here?” I called into his ear, trying to talk over the loud atmosphere.
“It’s a surprise. You’ll see.”
Weaving us forward, he pressed until he’d navigated me toward the stage for live music. The lights dimmed low as he stood behind me. His breath fanned along the shell of my ear. “I couldn’t pass this up when I found out who was playing tonight.” Arms tightening around me, lips tickling my neck, the intoxicating scent of his cologne assaulted my senses. I took a hard pull off my beer and twisted to gaze up at him.
“I’m having a great time tonight.”
“Me too. I’m glad you came.” The crowd grew quiet, and the band hit the stage. The moment the first song started, my lips quirked upward. We were there to listen to a Dave Mathews cover band.
The night was perfect. Mason had done fabulous planning our first official date, and I hoped there would be more to come.
Swaying to the melody in his arms, I hummed along to the lyrics, getting lost in the moment and his touch. Every nerve in my body seemed hyperaware to his every breath. Stroking a finger along my jaw, my guy tilted my head up to capture my lips. The rest of the world melted away as our tongues danced in a familiar tango. Tingles zinged up and down my spine. Nothing existed outside of Mason and our slow dance until the band switched things up to play some more current covers.
“What do you say we get out of here?”
