Page 53 of Moonlit Kisses

–molly–

Max locksthe front door of the workshop, then turns to me. “I can come with you, if you want?”

I think he’s offered to come to dinner with Martin at least six times today. There hasn’t been another kiss since Tuesday morning, but he’s been checking on me at every opportunity. He’s being incredibly sweet, even if he’s not giving me what I really want.

It’s comforting knowing he’s concerned about me, and I don’t have to deal with the fallout from Monday’s revelation on my own. That he’ll be available if I need him. I don’t think he realizes the gift he’s giving me.

I smile. “I promise I can do this. Thanks for offering your support, Max. It means a lot to me.”

He searches for something in the top drawer of the desk, looking triumphant when he finds it. Placing the sticky note on the desk, he writes something and hands it to me. “My address.” I look at him for clarification. “If you need someone to talk to after you finish with Martin, I’ll be up late. Even if the lights are off, just knock. Okay?” He raises his eyebrows, waiting for my answer.

I take the paper from him as my heart expands to double its size at the gesture. “Okay. Thank you.” I want to land a kiss on his cheek, but I’m not sure it’ll be welcome since he hasn’t kissed me since the other day.

He smiles. “Good girl.” Flutters explode in my tummy with his praise.Shit!I had no idea I liked that so much. I can even feel my cheeks heating. “Where are you having dinner?”

“Parable?” I’m reasonably sure that’s what it’s called. “It’s got a heated outdoor patio area to sit.”

He nods. “I know that place. It has great food. Do you know how to get there?”

“Yeah. I looked it up at lunchtime.” He’s being a mother hen and I love that he cares this much about me.

He steps closer, placing his hands on my hips. His touch sears through the fabric of my pants and sends my heart racing.Will he finally kiss me?I tilt my head up, locking eyes with his olive-green ones. “Good luck. I hope you get the answers you need and that the two of you work out a way to move forward from everything that’s happened.” He finishes with a lingering press of his lips to my forehead, which isn’t exactly the type of kiss I want from him, but I feel it all the way to my soul, like a brand. “I’m only a phone call away if you need me.”

I swallow my emotions. I don’t want to burst into tears. “Thank you,” I whisper. “I promise if I need you, I’ll call.”

He nods and drops his hands from my hips. Leaving me cold. “I’d better let you get ready.” He lingers, making no move to leave. I think this may be harder for him than it is for me. His care and concern for my well-being fills the parts of my heart that have felt empty for the past couple of months.

“Okay. I’ll see you later.” Our goodbye is awkward.

I want us to be more than two colleagues saying bye.

I want hugs and lingering kisses.

I want him to tuck my hair behind my ear.

I want his hands on me.

I want to feel his arms around me.

But I get none of that.

* * *

My legs are shaky as I walk into the restaurant. I thought I was doing okay until it was time to climb out of my car and walk inside. As I step inside, I’m worried I haven’t chosen the right outfit. Perhaps I should have worn something a little dressier. I opted for the capris I used to wear for work and paired them with a white shirt and denim jacket to help dress them down a little.

Worrying about things that can’t be changed right now filters through my mind as I wait for the hostess—What if I disappoint him in some way? What if I’m not the type of daughter he expects me to be? What if I’m not good enough?

A middle-aged woman with jet-black hair and striking features greets me at the podium. “Welcome toParable. Do you have a reservation?”

I nervously tuck my hair behind my ear, my hand shaking. “Uh, yeah. I’m with Martin …” Shit! I can’t remember his family name. I saw it on the side of his truck, but I’m drawing a blank right now. “Uhm, I’m sorry. I don’t remember his surname.”

She smiles at me with warmth. “That’s okay. I have a booking here under the name of Martin DeLuca. He’s the only Martin we have, so I’ll assume he’s your companion for the evening.”

I fidget with my bracelet and give her a grateful smile. “Thanks. I’m incredibly nervous and I couldn’t remember, but that’s his name.” I chuckle nervously.

“He’s already here. If you’ll follow me, I’ll show you to your table.”

We weave through the tables, and my eyes don’t know what to take in first. The garden is lush. When Martin said it had a heated outdoor patio area, I didn’t expect the restaurant to be like something I’d expect to find in a city like Palm Springs. Glancing up, thick vines grow over beams and hundreds, if not thousands, of fairy lights are strung up to add to the atmosphere. This place is gorgeous. By the time we arrive at the table, I’ve been distracted enough that I’m a little calmer and my legs feel less shaky. Thank goodness.

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