Page 10 of Tryst
“Why, Ms. Hollister.” He schools his face into a shocked and appalled expression. “Get your mind out of that gutter. You're a lady, and I'm a gentleman, for the day.” He smiles like the fox he is, licking his lips suggestively.
I laugh and dip my finger into my glass of sangria. “I wish you weren't.“ I stick my finger in my mouth, then slowly suck it off pressed between my lips. “This lady says you can take a quick break from your gentlemanly duties. I think we need a bathroom break.” I lick my lips, stroking the back of his hand. “Come on, you know you want to.”
“Oh, Ms. Hollister, you naughty girl.” He laughs, leaning across the table, and presses a too-short firm kiss on my lips. “Let's go before you corrupt me anymore.” He pays the bill, then takes my hand, and we’re out the door.
After a quick drive, we stand in front of a quaint little ice cream parlor, which reminds me of the green houses that go on the monopoly board game. But the windows and doors are white, with wood siding instead of plastic.
Two small round tables, occupied by people, are on the sidewalk. There is a small colorful children's table with kids enjoying their cold treats. The heat melts the ice cream faster than they can eat it, and they are loving every sticky minute of it.
I smile at him loving the feel of the family-friendly atmosphere. “We could have had ice cream at the restaurant.”
“We could have, but this is one of the best. I only do the best.” He puts his arm around my shoulder.
“I'll take your word for it tonight, especially since it sounds like you’re giving me a compliment.”
“Like you had a choice, and it is a compliment. Come.”
“I do, every time,” I tease.
“Watch yourself, Ms. Hollister, as you can see this isn't the place for that sort of talk.” He leans into my ear brushing his lips against my skin. “No shenanigans and sexy fuckery from you. Beside, it's been a long day. I don't think you'll be able to handle the beast down below tonight.”
I burst out laughing. “I mean, you’re impressive, but that's a bit much, wouldn't you say?”
“Hell no. Go big every time. Even bigger in the retelling.”
I look at him wide-eyed. “Be careful, false advertising like that might get you cut.” I shake my head, and we both laugh.
Inside is a mix of cheery green and pink stripes. The short line moves fast, and I ask the guy behind the counter, “Which flavor do you like best?”
“It’s personal preference for everyone.” He smiles. “But my favorite is the birthday bash. It’s three scoops of ice cream, pink, and white with blue, and green in a large waffle cone.”
“Sound good to me, that's what I'll have.” As soon as he hands it to me, I lick the cone moaning my approval. “Mm…Thank you.”
His startled voice raises an octave as he intently watches me. “Mmm…No, thank you.”
Ian clears his throat and puts his arm around me, pulling me closer to his side. He places his order a bit too tersely, squinting at the guy.
I give him an elbow to the rib when the guy moves down the row of ice creams to scoop out Ian's order. I whisper, “You could be more pleasant.”
“I was pleasant enough.” He stares at me.
Men. I roll my eyes at his unreasonable demeanor.
He mumbles a gruff thank you to the guy, takes his cone, and pays. We walk out and he says, “It’s your fault. You can't go around licking things, moaning, and not expect a reaction from the man you’re with, seeing the reaction of a guy who wants you to lick him like that damn cone. Blame yourself for the reactions in there.” He huffs, shaking his head at me.
“You're full of it,“ I say ignoring his attitude, and still in a good mood because I think his jealous streak has to do more with him than me. Because I know I haven't given him cause to be jealous. “You want to sit?”
“The only seats are next to the little people with sticky hands.” He scrunches up his nose then licks his cone. “Let's walk.”
“Suit yourself. I don't mind sticky hands.” One of the little girls smiles at me, and I smile back. “They're cute.“
He takes my hand, I link my fingers with his, and I feel brave enough to broach the subject while we walk along the sidewalks lined with little shops. “I go back in two weeks.”
“I know.”
“Are you going to miss me?”
“Sure.”
