BRADLEY

“Hey, Bill,” I say into the phone as I wait for Lexi outside of the diner. She’s finishing her closing duties, and I ducked out a few minutes earlier to make a quick call. “How’s it going?”

“Good, good, fine,” he says. “Sorry about the delay, I’ve had a few things come up.”

“No problem. I was just curious since I hadn’t heard from you for a few weeks. We’re all good after last time, right?”

“The diner place? Yeah, it’s all good. I’m still looking for something else for you.”

“Okay, great.” I don’t do a great job sounding convincing, however, because I checked around on some real estate websites last night, and I spotted at least two or three properties that would be perfect. In my budget, great location, available immediately.

“Sorry, man, I’ve been busy with a big deal,” Bill says again. “I’ll call you as soon as something crops up.”

“Great. Thanks again.” I hesitate. “Say, if you’re not interested, or if you’re too busy, we can always part ways. No hard feelings.”

“I’ve got time. I’ll be in touch soon.”

We hang up, and I’m left slightly mystified. He sounded pre-occupied, and far less enthusiastic than the last few times we’ve chatted. I’m not sure if he’s sore over our last conversation, or if he’s just lost interest. Or if something really has come up, and he’s just plain old busy.

I’ve got a weird feeling about the situation, but I can’t do much about it now. I’ll give him until the end of the week, and if he doesn’t call me back, I’ll assume he’s not interested and cut ties.

I’ve been procrastinating in my search for real estate thanks to the sudden influx of nights spent at one particular diner, but I’m feeling the itch again. More than ever, I want to be on my own, separate from Leo, focused on my own business. Leo’s been more unavailable than ever, and I want out before shit hits the fan.

I’m slipping my phone into my pocket when I hear a squeal and a giggle, and a flying object lands on my back. The wind is crushed out of me, and not for the first time, I’m surprised at how much punch Lexi’s small body can pack.

“Who was that?” she asks, her arms circling my neck and her legs wrapping around my waist piggyback style. “Onward, Bradley Hamilton!”

She points forward, but I don’t move yet. Instead, I twist her around like a magic trick until she’s cradled across my arms. In range for a kiss.

I lean in, nuzzle against her until she’s laughing at the brush of my five o’clock shadow against her cheek, and then finally, I taste her lips. Sugar and honey and berries, and a hint of sweet cream.

“Did you eat whipped cream again before you left?” I ask, my eyes locked on her beautiful green irises. “You forget I can taste it on you.”

“Maybe I wasn’t trying to fool you,” she suggests, wriggling until she lands on her feet. “I ate something else, too. Got a guess?”

“I like a challenge.” I hook a finger through the V-neck of her shirt and draw her close. I press my lips to hers, tilting my head to the side as I think. “Blueberries?”

“Wrong.”

Another kiss. “Raspberries?”

She makes a buzzer sound.

“You’re making things hard,” I tell her, and let my hands slide down to her waist. “Let me try again.”

“Okay,” she breathes.

I take her mouth in mine, hungry for the kiss. She’s been tempting me for weeks now, bending over the counter, winking in my direction. All part of her job, but to me, it feels like torture.

Maybe she’s tortured, too, because she melts into my arms. All malleable and sweet, like Laffy Taffy. Or Cotton Candy. Or whatever stupid analogy makes sense. I don’t have time to think of better comparisons because all of the blood in my body is flowing into my lower half and making my pants very uncomfortable.

She moans once, then again as her eyes close. I keep my eyes open, needing to watch the change in her expression as she loses herself in this, in me, in us. Her eyelids flutter, and I can feel the beat of her heart against my own. The rawness of us, of our closeness, has me dangerously thirsty for more.

My hand reaches under her shirt, my thumb running over the soft skin of her stomach. She arches so enthusiastically under my touch that it’s imperative I get her home at once.

“Why do we have to wait, baby?” I murmur against her neck. “Please come home with me tonight.”

“Hold me,” she instructs.

I glance up as the lights of a taxi swing down the street, cruising slowly. Since I don’t want to give them an excuse to stop, I pull Lexi into the alley behind her building, the same place where she reamed me out for kissing her in public.

If she doesn’t like public places, that’s fine.

We can do plenty of things just fine in private.

Her legs wrap around my waist as I lift her, my arm holding us away from the wall of her diner. My length is pressed against her, both of our jeans causing a painful amount of friction as she writhes against me.

“Tell me why we have to wait,” I demand. “I want to touch you, kiss you everywhere. I need you. Need to show you how I feel.”

“You haven’t...” she pauses to inhale. I shift under her, the motion brushing us even tighter together, and she lets out a hiss that sounds like need.

“I can feel how much you want this.” My arm around her waist presses her tighter to me. “You know how much I want this, too. What’s stopping us?”

“We need time alone together. It’s not about the date, Bradley.”

“Then what are you waiting for?”

“You promised! I want us to commit to trying this—wholeheartedly—before we make a mistake that can’t be undone.”

“This isn’t a mistake; we both know it.”

“Then be patient for just a little while longer.” She wiggles down. “Why do we need to rush this?”

I run a hand through my hair. “We’re not rushing anything. I’ve known you almost my entire life.”

“Fine, then let’s do this right. We know how to be friends, Brad. I don’t know how to date you. We have to take things slow because I don’t plan on us going backward.”

I grudgingly see her point. Until now, the only difference about us hanging out as friends and dating is a few stolen kisses. She deserves to be wooed, to feel special and cared for—to be shown off to the world, not tucked away in my apartment.

I choose a number, a date on the calendar that is fast approaching. It’s longer than I’d like to wait, but I do need some time to plan for what I have in mind. I offer her the time with a caveat. “After I prove to you that us dating is the best decision we’ve ever made, there’s no more patience. Deal?”

“Deal.” She hooks her arm through mine. “Shall we head home?”

“My place or yours?”

She offers a murderous glare.

“Kidding,” I say. “But I’m not kidding when I say I’ll see you at the gym tomorrow morning.”

The murderous glare darkens to dangerous levels.

“I will pull you out of bed,” I tell her. “You promised me.”

“No, I warned you.”

“I’m up for a challenge.”

“Good,” she harrumphs. “Me too. Good luck.”

“Good luck?”

“Yeah,” she says. “You’ll need it to deal with me tomorrow.”