Page 51 of Three Not-So-Little Words
“That’s a watered-down version of it, but yes.”
“What if you also miss out on something great because you were too worried about it becoming something else?”
“So, you think I should go to dinner?”
“Do I think you should get out of the house and have some fun?” Definitely.”
“Hmm,” I say, thinking out loud.
She leans forward and lowers her voice. “Veronica, you better listen, or I’m going to come over here and bug you every single day.”
I also lean forward, trying to match her energy. “I bet you’ll get sick of me before I get sick of you.”
“Then, I’ll just have to find other ways to convince you.”
My mother never had to use physical punishments on us. Suzanne Lawson may be small, but I’d bet on her in a fight against anyone. One look from her had us shaking in our boots.
I may be grown, but she still scares me.
“Fine,” I say. “I’ll go to dinner.”
“Good girl.”
I swear if that isn’t what Drew is saying to me this weekend, I’ll be highly disappointed.
eighteen
You’re On
Drew
“It should be illegal for you to look that good,” I say to Ronnie as I look at her in the passenger seat of my truck.
One side of her mouth pulls into a sly smile. “Flattery will get you everywhere, my friend.”
It’s hard to keep my eyes on the road when she’s so fucking sexy. Her long hair is pushed to one side and hangs in loose curls. Her eyes pop with dark brown shadow. Her tits arepopping out of her low-cut shirt and bounce with every single bump I hit.
She asks, “So, where are we going for dinner?”
“I have a confession,” I tell her. “I don’t know a lot of good places to eat since I’m new around here. I Googled one place that I planned on, but it turns out that it’s been closed down for a while. I thought maybe you’d have some suggestions, or we can just drive around until something sounds good.”
“Hmm. Okay. What kind of food do you like?”
“I’m not picky. We can go anywhere you want.”
“How do you feel about Mexican?”
“Love it.”
“I’ve got the perfect place. We are only about five minutes away.”
“Perfect.”
She spends the next few minutes giving me turn-by-turn directions until we pull into a Mexican restaurant called La Grande Margarita.
We walk inside, and as I hold the door open for her, I look at her ass. I just can’t help myself. Maybe dinner before sex was a mistake.
Once we are seated and looking at the menu, she says, “This place is the closest I’ve gotten to authentic Mexican food around here. And the margaritas are to die for.”
