Page 61 of Good Girl's Guide to Love
He shakes his head. “I don’t care if it is or isn’t, that dress is perfect on you. And for future reference, if there’s an option towear or not wear the sundress, wear the sundress, Ainsley Mae. Always wear the sundress.”
Thank goodness the restaurant is dark, because I’m pretty sure my face is completely flushed right now from Linc’s words.
And why is there a tingle…down there. That was…well, unexpected.
Gosh darn it…why did I think I could go tonight without wearing the rubber band. It looked odd, so I took it off.
Bad move, Ainsley…bad move.
Linc looks around before leaning into me. “Does this feel ridiculous? And before you overthink, not meaning a date with you. But this whole night?”
“Oh my gosh, yes,” I say in relief. “This is a lovely restaurant, but between Katie telling us the cameras were lurking—and I’m pretty sure we’re supposed to be holding hands right now—I feel like I just have a giant camera on me at all times. Also, I don’t know what to order, because I don’t know these foods.”
“Thank God it’s not just me,” he says. “I know I’m not a dater, but even I know that this isn’t how it’s supposed to go.”
“You’re not wrong,” I say. “I mean, I’m not some pro at it. But I’m pretty sure we’re not supposed to spend our date looking over our shoulders, all while trying to figure out something to order at a place that clearly neither of us want to eat at.”
That makes him laugh. “What gave me away?”
I shrug. “You crinkled your nose more than a few times. And I’m pretty sure you don’t even read your playbooks that hard.”
“Guilty,” he says. “Whoa! Wait! Why didn’t you say anything, if you didn’t want to eat here either?”
I shrug. “Because even more than being a Grade-A worrier, I’m a people pleaser. So if this is the restaurant you chose, I wasnotgoing to be the one to object.”
“Oh, Ainsley Mae…” The smile he gives as he laughs under his breath hits me straight in the heart. This. This is the manI’ve come to know over the past week. Light. Easy. Not having to put on a show for anyone. “Can I possibly tempt you with a suggestion for the rest of our night?”
This sends my eyebrows up. “Linc, if you put one drop of alcohol in front of me…”
He laughs again, tossing his napkin on the table before standing up. He holds out his hand for me, and now I’m even more confused. “Nothing like that. But how we defy orders and get the hell out of here?”
I look out of the window, where I happen to see someone with a camera walking by. “But aren’t we supposed to stay here? For pictures that aren’t happening or something? Katie will flip if we leave. I already think she doesn’t like me very much, and if I go along with this, she’ll dislike me even more. And, I think you realize this by now, but I’m not the kind of girl who gets in trouble, and I really don’t want to get in trouble on our first date.”
Linc gives me a wave of a hand. “I’ll deal with Katie. Plus, if these photo people are real journalists, they’ll figure out that we bounced and they’ll chase us down. What’d ya say, Ainsley Mae? Want to do another scary thing?”
My stomach flips, but in a good way, at the thought. I really don’t want to eat here—I can’t pronounce most of the sauces, and if I can’t pronounce it, I don’t eat it. Clearly, Linc would feel more comfortable somewhere else. Maybe he’s right, if the cameras really wanted pictures, we should make them work for them.
And if that wasn’t enough, the glint in Linc’s eyes is enough to push me over the edge.
As well as send a tingle up my spine.
“Okay, boyfriend. Where do you suggest?”
18
linc
“I don’t careif this is real or fake, Lincoln Kincaid, this is the best first date ever.”
I laugh and sit back as Ainsley organizes the trays of food that were just delivered. “And here I thought a good first date would require me getting dressed up, picking a fancy restaurant, and eating a seventy-dollar steak prepared in sauces I’ve never heard of.”
“Nope,” she says. “Chicken tenders and sweet tea. This is the key to a girl’s heart.”
If this is what it’s like to date Ainsley, then this year is going to fly by.
I laugh as I watch in a little shock, and a whole lot of awe, as my prim and proper “girlfriend” brings a ranch-soaked chicken tender to her mouth. Her head is tilted, as if she’s going to try and catch any dripping dressing with her tongue. I’m also ignoring the fact that I’m slightly turned on by this. “Do you want a tender with that sauce?”
She shakes her head. “When it comes to chicken tenders and ranch dressing, the limit doesn’t exist for too much.”
