Page 15 of My Grumpy Sweetheart
Bailey: This is not a hostage extraction situation. I happen to like my grumpy axe murderer. Seriously. He’s delicious… he just needs to get used to me.
Parker didn’t reply to that immediately, but he didn’t need to. I know what he’d say, anyway. He’d reiterate that I could always call him if I needed to get out of here. I didn’t doubt he’d move heaven and hell to get me somewhere safe the minute I didn’t feel safe with my date.
He always protected everybody… the problem was that he needed protecting, too. And it might be too early to say, but I really, really hoped he’d found that someone in his little rebound fling. The way he talked about him… yeah. Different than the way he’d ever talked about his douchebag of an ex.
Shaking my head, I let my eyes wander, taking in my surroundings. The neighing of horses, the distant rumbling of a tractor, laughing, cicadas chirping, and the wind rustling through the leaves.
There was movement behind one of the windows on the third floor, and when I looked up, I caught a big figure looking down at me. It was only a second until he disappeared behind the white curtains, but I’d seen enough.
A smile spread on my face.
Looked like — secretly at least — my axe murderer couldn’t take his eyes off me.
* * *
Today’s evening activity was a cider tasting.
I thought it was a great idea, and upon entering the big dining hall, I was met with heavenly scents. Apple — duh — cinnamon, vanilla, but there were also spicy notes and the sharp hints of alcohol.
Next to me, Dakota groaned, but it was decidedly not a good groan. Furrowing his brows, he gave me a pleading look. “Can we go? This is like… a club meeting of a retiree-group.”
Laughing, I lightly punched against his upper arm — it was fucking solid. “There are younger people here, too.” Granted, those were middle aged couples, but that was still a lot younger than the group of about sixteen older people who looked like they were at least in their eighties.
Go them for still doing trips!
“Yeah…” Dakota sighed, running a hand through his long, wild hair. He’d lost the beanie he’d been wearing and had exchanged his signature flannel shirt with a white button-down. Also, he was now wearing tight black dressing pants, not the washed jeans he’d been sporting before, and he looked fucking hot. Like rugged-businessman hot.
Still… I kinda missed his axe murder slash hipster lumberjack vibe.
Not that I’d tell him. I appreciated him making the effort to look nice. I’d done the same; I just wasn’t sure if he appreciated my kind of dressing up. He certainly hadn’t said anything about my skintight jeans or the loose fitting, turquoise silk blouse that matched my fingernails and the hint of eye shadow I’d applied.
“There’s our happy Carousel-couple,” someone, a waiter I’d never seen before, greeted with a happy smile on his face. “We’ve got a special table for the two of you. Right over here.”
Our special table was nestled in a little nook at the end of the dining room. Rose petals lay strewn across the white tablecloth and there were honest to god candles lit.
“Our cider tasting is accompanied by a five course meal,” our server said while we were taking our seats. “The first course will be served in about ten minutes. Have a great night.”
And then, he was gone, and I was left with Dakota who still looked a little uncomfortable but decidedly less so ever since we got away from the crowd.
Huh. Maybe people-ing really wasn’t his thing.
“Soo… do you like apples?” I asked the first question that came to my mind, and I couldn’t help a little laugh spilling out. “Because if you don’t, I’m afraid this is going to be a long, long weekend for you.”
That actually got me a smile. A very short-lived one, but I’d take it. “I like apples. Though I’m not convinced I like apples nearly enough for this.” He nodded towards the dining room. “Please tell me the apple part is reserved for the cider, not the food.”
Giggling, I shrugged. “I highly doubt they’ll find ways to incorporate apples in every single dish they’re serving this weekend.”
Dakota raised his brow at me. “You’re way too optimistic.”
Turns out, he was right.
The first course — smoked salmon on an apple fennel salad served with a sparkling, mulled cider — was delicious, but definitely hinted at the direction this dinner would go in.
“Told you so,” Dakota grumbled, looking at his plate in distaste. “What do I get for being right?”
I batted my eyelashes at him. “A kiss?”
I’d known it was a long shot, but his completely taken aback, even a little horrified expression hurt, at least for a second, until I reminded myself that we barely knew each other, and this was our first date. Besides, the way his eyes were almost bulging out of his head was too funny, so I giggled a little, deciding I’d go light on the flirting until he was more comfortable with me. “You should see your face!”
