Page 33 of Wannabe in Wyoming
“You ready yet, woman?” Nathan called down the hall to her. “I promise, you’re gorgeous just the way you are—no need to spend time getting dolled up for me.”
“Hold your horses, soldier. I’m coming.” After searching her bedroom closet for something nice to wear, she’d opted for a mid-length, flowy, white skirt that made her feel romantic. She’d then paired it with new, black dress boots—yes, those were a thing apparently—and a black, long-sleeved, button-up blouse with the top three clear crystal snaps undone. This was Wyoming after all, and a little bling equaled dressy.
Walking down the hall, she met Nathan in the living room. His eyes widened at her appearance, and he stood straighter as his gaze roamed her from head to toe and back up again. He was so handsome it stopped her in her tracks. If she’d thought he was gorgeous shirtless, that was nothing compared to the man dressed up. He wore fitted black jeans and a button up shirt the same ocean blue of his eyes. With no tie and the top two buttons of his shirt undone, showing her a glimpse of his dark chest hair, she was practically drooling on her boots. He still hadn’t shaved his scruff off which just added to the appeal.
“Holy sex on a stick Batman, you look amazing.” And there went her filter again. Her cheeks flamed hot with embarrassment.
Laughing, Nathan stepped closer to her and gathered her into a hug. “Good Lord, woman, I love it when you speak your mind like that.” Keeping one arm tight around her waist, he cupped her cheek with his other hand before leaning down and kissing her softly. “You look pretty amazing yourself, Wannabe.” He brushed his lips across hers in the gentlest of caresses. “Before I throw caution to the wind, and you into your bed, let’s go. I want to wine and dine my girl while I have the chance.”
Her heart clenched at the thought of him leaving, but she forced the uncomfortable feeling aside. Tonight was about them—being together and enjoying each other’s company. She wasn’t going to ruin it by dwelling on the fact that his visit would be over in a few days and then he’d be back in Kansas, ten hours away. She’d become so attached to him in such a short period of time. How was she going to let him go?
* * *
Nathan had her truck keys,and when she reached to take them from him, he pulled his hand away. “Nope. I can’t pick you up at your door, but Iwilldo the driving. This is a date. Let me show you I can be a gentleman.”
“You know, have you ever heard the saying that a gentleman ruins a lady’s lipstick, not her mascara? Or the other one, a gentleman opens doors for a lady, so he can smack her ass as she walks through?” Grinning wickedly, Willow fiddled with the buttons on his shirt, blinking up at him with a look of such false innocence, he didn’t know if he wanted to laugh or kiss her again. He easily settled on the latter.
“Hmm . . .” He lifted his head, licking his lips. “You don’t seem to be wearing any lipstick.”
“Not a speck. No mascara either.” Smacking a loud peck on his mouth, she swatted his ass. “Let’s go—I’m hungry. Wouldn’t want me to lose it and eat you, now would we?”
“Oh, but what a way to go . . .” Rolling his eyes at her antics, but loving every second of them, he led her outside and drove them into town. He’d picked Jeremiah’s brain earlier and taken his advice. There was only one special, date night-worthy restaurant in town—Bella Mia. It served classic Italian food and good wine, according to Jeremiah anyway.
When they arrived, Nathan missed keeping her from jumping out of the truck again. He wanted to open the door for her, like his father had taught him to do, but the damn stubborn woman kept ruining his plans. He loved her independence, but there were just some things he wanted to do for her for no other reason than it gave him pleasure to treat her the way she deserved.
Inside the charming restaurant, Willow’s eyes lit up when she noticed a young man, about seventeen or eighteen, dressed in black jeans, a white shirt, and a black bow tie behind the hostess stand. “Cody! I didn’t know you worked here too,” she exclaimed, giving him a swift hug before stepping back to Nathan.
The kid’s face turned beet red, but he quickly paled and glanced away from Willow’s enticing cleavage when he noticed Nathan glaring at him. “Um, yup, I . . . um . . . work here sometimes when I’m not at the store. Usually, I just bus tables, but the regular hostess is sick. They call me in when they’re short-staffed. I’m trying to save for college and that tattoo I told you about.” He seemed to realize he was babbling and snapped his mouth shut.
Undoubtedly oblivious to the kid’s crush on her, Willow set her hand on Nathan’s arm. “Nathan, this is Cody Moore. He was one of the first people to be nice to me after I moved here. His sister is my new hairdresser. Cody, this is . . . um . . .”
It was Willow’s turn to blush, and Nathan recalled how she’d hesitated earlier in the day when introducing him to Dale. It was clear she was worried about putting a label on their relationship, and he decided to stake his claim once and for all. Holding a hand out to Cody, he said, “Hi, I’m Willow’s boyfriend, Nathan Casey.”
He wasn’t sure who was shocked more, the kid or Willow, but Cody recovered first and shook his hand. “Um . . . hi. It’s . . . uh . . . nice to meet you. Let me . . . um . . . . where would you like to sit?”
“Do you have a table that’s a little more private than the others?” Nathan asked, resting his hand on the small of her back. He could feel the heat of her skin through her blouse, and he groaned inwardly. God, this woman fired his blood.
“Um, yeah, we do.” Avoiding eye contact with both of them, Cody grabbed two menus and led the way past several tables—some of which were occupied, while others sat empty. He stopped by a cozy booth in the back that was a good distance away from the other diners. The round candlelit table was covered with a starched, black cloth and set with elegant white china, silverware, and glasses. Burgundy napkins rested atop the plates and matched the trim around the soft beige walls. Black-and-white prints of Italian landmarks, music playing softly in the background, and low-lit sconces all added to the appealing atmosphere. While the décor wasn’t original, it was romantic.
Putting the menus on the table, the teen stepped back. “Your server will be with you in a few minutes to take your drink orders. Please enjoy your date, um, I mean, meal.” Blushing again, he swiftly retreated back towards the front door.
“The kid has got it bad for you,” Nathan observed, as they sat at opposite ends of the booth’s curved, black, leather-covered bench, then scooched in until they were sitting beside each other.
“What? No way! He’s just a sweet kid who likes to talk to me about tattoos when I run into him at the store.” Opening her menu, she scanned the selections while also hiding her pink cheeks with the leather-bound folder. A teenage busboy set a basket with fresh bread and dish of herbed olive oil on the table, then quickly filled their water glasses before disappearing again.
Nathan grinned at her sudden bashfulness but waited until they were alone again before explaining his earlier observation. “Nope. He might like your tattoos, but he’s definitely got a crush on you. Not that I can blame him at all—you’re a ten. Scratch that—you’re an eleven. If it was anyone other than a teenage kid still in high school, I might have to have words with him in the parking lot for looking down your shirt, but it’s pretty cute.”
“Cute? You think having your thirty-three-old girlfriend crushed on by someone practically half her age iscute?” She glared at him over the top of her menu, making him chuckle.
“Yes. And so are you when you’re trying to be all . . .” he waved his hand at her, “ . . . what you’re doing right now.”Which is making my dick hard.But he didn’t say that. Even acknowledging it to himself was bad enough. He shifted in his seat, trying to get some relief from the throbbing bulge in his pants. Fat chance of that—the woman made him crazy without even trying. God help him if she ever put her mind to it, he’d be toast. Burnt toast with a raging erection.
“You realize you’re not making any sense, right?” Smiling, she took a sip of her water.
“You scramble my brains, Wannabe. Give a man a break, here.”
Leaning across the table, she pecked a kiss onto his lips, retreating before he had a chance to deepen it into something more.
“Anyway, Cody’s a good kid. Like I said, his sister, Ginger, is my new hairdresser. We met at the drunken Jenga night. We’re taking Cody and his friend, Bubba—yes, that’s his real nickname—to get tattoos next week. Bubba got a really bad tribal one a few months ago that he wants to get covered up with an eagle. Cody had to wait until he turned eighteen a few weeks ago to get one. His mother wouldn’t let him do it before then. He wants this really cool one he saw on the shop’s website—it’ll look like his skin of his upper arm is splitting open, and instead of seeing blood, muscle, and bone, there’ll be an American flag behind the opening. I’ll show you a picture of it when we go home. Cody’s been asking me for my input ever since he saw mine and wanted me to go with them to make sure the artist is talented and has sterile conditions. He’s heard too many horror stories, including Bubba’s.”
