Page 25 of One Night With My Grumpy Professor Daddy

Chapter thirteen

Ava

Why do his lips look so good?

Why is his smile so beautiful?

Why can’t I stop looking at him?

Drake and I wound up at one of my go-to spots, a cute little place. It’s nothing extravagant, but I love the cozy cafe vibe, and it’s hardly ever packed. Tonight, it’s just a regular crowd. Our food’s laid out in front of us, and for the first few minutes, we’re both chowing down. I can’t help sneaking peeks at him as I eat.

“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you!”

Someone bursts into a song behind us, and waiters come in with a cake, balloons and flowers, heading to someone seated behind us. It’s impossible not to look back at the scene. Just as the waiter reaches the woman they’re singing for, the man with her makes use of the opportunity to get on one knee and open a tiny box containing a ring. I watch excitedly as she squeals and says yes. When the hullabaloo dies down, Drake smiles at me, and I smile back. I voice the thought in my head. Maybe this was not the best choice of restaurant for a casual dinner. If someone ran into us, they might think something more is going on between us. His brows knot as he drops his cutlery and says, his tone somber.

“And here I thought there was something more going on between us? I was just about to propose, too.” My eyebrows furrow because his face is sad; it’s hard to know how to respond to that. He cuts in, a teasing smile on his face. “Relax. I’m joking.”

“Well, don’t quit your day job. That’s a one out of ten, mister. See me in my office for such poor performance.”

“Ou sounds like someone might be getting punished.” His tone is teasing, but his words are not. They send memories of my time in his office. I’ve lost my appetite for food, but I’m hungry for something else.

He nods at my food. “Is that alright?”

“Yes.” My voice comes out soft.

“Good.”

I manage to make it through dinner without any more sexual Innuendo. We make our way out, and I start to order an Uber.

“What are you doing?”

“Uh, leaving?”

“C’mon… I’ll give you a ride.”

Because I know better than to argue with Drake, I don’t even try; I just hope to get home fast so I can stop thinking about this man and how his lips feel. Without a word, I make my way to his car. He opens the door for me, and I slide into the passenger’s seat of his sleek ride. I knew he was into fast cars, but I didn’t anticipate this beautiful cream interior. Bugatti. The dashboard is a symphony of digital displays and polished surfaces, with ambient lighting casting a subtle glow over every detail. I don’t ask questions—I just buckle up, staring straight ahead. He takes the driver’s seat, and just like when we were on our way to the restaurant, I go all quiet, acutely aware of his presence beside me. There’s something about him that’s so commanding and effortlessly sexy that it messes with my ability to think straight… especially in this cramped space with him.

I tell him my address, and we kick-off.

“Are you OK?” His voice pulls my attention from his hands on the steering wheel to his face. My heart flips as my gaze roams over his gray eyes, trimmed beard, and dark salt-and-pepper hair.

He’s such a beautiful man.

He raises an eyebrow, and I realize I haven’t replied, “I-I’m fine.” I lick my lips, and I notice his eyes zero in on me, flickering, darkening, filled with dark promises of what’s to come. We stop at the light, and our eyes lock, and in that moment, I think I stop breathing altogether. His eyes edgy mysteriousness draws me in, and I don’t know what to do with my racing heart. I wonder what’s going on in his mind If it’s as affected as I am right now. “I bet if I touched you right now, I could make you come before the traffic light turns green.”

Involuntarily, my thighs clench together. To distract myself from the graphic images in my head, I look out the window to count down the traffic light. When I count down five seconds, I look back at him. “You can’t just say things like that. Remember the truce.”

“We agreed to try not to touch, and I didn’t touch you. But that doesn’t mean I’m not thinking about it.” The light turns green—he turns to the road and keeps driving like he never said any of that. When he stops in front of my house, I’m ready to bolt or throw myself on him. I decide on the first option and reach for the door handle.

“Wait, Ava.” His hand almost touches my thigh, but it doesn’t. I stop and look at him. “I just want to say thanks for tonight, thanks for the effort in making this program a success. I appreciate you.”

My mouth suddenly feels stuck, but my chest feels warm from his praise. So, I just nod.

“Goodnight, Drake.” He nods, and I reach for the door again. This time, nothing stops me. I walk to the door and fumble with my keys because, for whatever reason, I’m a bit shaky.

“Ava, wait!” My heart lurches at his voice, and I turn around to see him holding out my notepad.

“You left this in the car.” He walks up to me and hands it over.

---