Page 83 of Sliding Into Love
“Oh, come on, don’t you think it’ll be fun?”
“A party, thrown by my mother, for all of the teams in the League? No, I don’t.”
“Maybe I can go with Derek then,” she offered in a small voice as she looked out the window.
“Shit, I’m sorry, sweetheart. I didn’t realize you wanted to go. Want to go to the dumb fancy party with me?” he said in his best apologetic voice and raised their hands to his lips to brush a kiss over her knuckles.
“Will there be food?” She shivered at the touch of his lips against her fingers.
“Of course.”
“Hmm,” she hummed, peeking at him out of the corner of her eye.
“Fancyfood. Laura Lorne is known for her excellent taste in hors d’oeuvres. And wine.”
“Will you dance with me at baseball prom?”
“Do you want me to?”
She nodded almost bashfully.
“Then I will dance with you.”
The brightness of her smile rivaled the sun glinting off the river as they drove past.
“This is an interesting location for a date,” Ivy remarked, peering out the window at the sign for the specialty supermarket.
“I thought you’d like to pick out your own pizza toppings,” he said, grinning at her.
“And you are absolutely right! Let’s go!”
And even though it was unconventional, it was probably the most fun he’d had with Ivy, at least with their clothes on. He already had basic ingredients for pizza, but they wandered through the aisles, choosing toppings for what Ethan estimated would be about ten large pizzas if they used them all. Ivy, naturally, tried every sample and loudly proclaimed her love for each, except the funkiest cheeses. They bought enough food for an army and enough desserts for two.
The whole time they wandered through the store, he couldn’t keep his hands off her, his fingers itching to untie the ribbon of her dress to discover what lay beneath. Instead, he limited himself to tucking her under his arm as he pushed the cart haphazardly with one hand. She sneaked an extra box of Lucky Charms when he wasn’t looking. Ethan pretended not to notice, and Ivy pretended to not notice his pretending. Every few aisles, she would slide her hand in his back pocket and dig her nails into his backside while keeping a straight face and pointing out something silly, and he barely avoided throwing her over his shoulder and driving straight home. Her little game was going to send him into cardiac arrest.
Ivy didn’t speak again until they were in his apartment. She toed off her shoes and perched beside him on the counter in her usual spot, a glass of wine in hand, occasionally adding flour or water to his dough as needed.
“Ethan?” Ivy took a large gulp of wine, swinging her legs where they dangled over the edge of the counter.
“Yeah?” He dabbed the tip of her nose with flour.
“I’m kind of— I mean I don’t—” and then she groaned and downed the rest of her wine in one go.
“What’s wrong, sweetheart?” he asked as he dumped the kneaded dough into an oiled bowl to rise.
He was washing the residual flour off his hands when she sighed deeply.
“The wine helps, I guess.”
“Helps what?” Ethan stood in front of Ivy, wedging himself between her knees. With her on the counter, and him between her thighs, he barely restrained himself from tugging the dress apart, but since something was clearly bothering her, he knew he shouldn’t. Instead, he compromised by placing his hands on her waist.
“I’m…I’m nervous,” she admitted, a blush blooming over her cheeks and chest.
His head snapped up to meet her eyes.
“Nervous? Why?”
She was so kind and so sweet. So perfect. What could she possibly be nervous about?
