Chapter Twelve
“Come on…” I fussed with my hair, which was not cooperating no matter how I styled it. Up, down, half-up, sloppy bun, nothing looked right.
I growled and threw my comb at the mirror. “Damn it, Avery. Focus!”
It was just a date. A stupid date. I went on four to five dates a week. This was no different.
“I have too much makeup on.” Returning to the bathroom I scrubbed my face clean and started over.
Halfway through lining my eyes, my phone pinged with a text from Noah.
You ready?
Shit. It was almost seven.
Not yet. Thirty minutes.
I stared at my phone as text bubbles bounced, disappeared, bounced, and disappeared again. Then I waited another minute, but nothing came.
I didn’t have time to sit there and wait for his response, so I went back to my makeup. The text came through a few minutes later when I was just finishing up my eyes.
Time’s up. I’m coming over.
My gaze shot to the mirror. My hair wasn’t done. If it was staying down I had to curl the ends or at least add a braid. A knock sounded at the door.
I rushed into the hall. “I’m not ready. Come back in twenty minutes!”
“We agreed on seven.” His voice was muffled through the door.
I took several slow steps to the door but didn’t touch it. “I’m not dressed.”
“Perfect. Let me in.”
“Five minutes.”
“Avery.”
“Please…”
He sighed. “Fine, but your ass better be ready in five. Hurry up.”
I shook my head, not used to that sort of talk from a date. Rushing back into the bedroom, I flipped over my head and roughly brushed out my hair, spritzing it with some product meant to give it a beach look.
I applied a light layer of gloss to my lips and jerked on a pair of boyfriend jeans with an intentional tear at the knee. My cropped, off the shoulder, cream sweater paired with cream stilettos took the look from casual to sassy. I just needed to find earrings.
He knocked again. “Time’s up.”
“I’m coming!” Distractedly, I yanked open the door.
“You’re not supposed to come until the end of the date,” he greeted with a cocky grin. And damn, he looked good.
I rolled my eyes. “I just need to find my earrings.”
“Wait.” He caught my hand and pulled me back to face him. “You look great. I love your hair like that.”
“Th—thanks.” I disentangled my hand and searched the living room for my little gold hoops.
“Are these them?”
Turning, I came up short as he held up the earrings, not ten inches away from me. Why the hell was I so out of breath? I needed to calm down. “Yes, thank you.”
“You look great. Let’s go.”
He took my hand and I nearly forgot my purse and coat. “Where are we going?”
“To a tap house.”
“A brewery?”
“Yeah.” As we stepped into the elevator, his arm curled around my hips.
My sweater was cropped and my coat was still in my arms. As his thumb brushed the bare skin of my back I shivered.
He glanced down at me and smiled. “Ticklish?”
“Not usually.” Nothing about this was usual.
We stepped into the lobby and he helped me with my coat. “Button up.” He carefully slid each button into its hole. “It’s chilly out there.”
I wasn’t used to him touching me so much or with such familiarity. The instinct to pull away was there out of habit, but as if he sensed my tension, he held tighter each time I thought to put a little space between us.
Winston greeted us at the front door. “I have your car, Mr. Wolfe.”
“Thank you.”
“We’re driving?”
“Yup.”
His car was a beautiful, black BMW 328i hardtop convertible. He held my door and I was pleased to find the seats already warmed. “This is a nice car.”
“Thanks. Buckle up. We’ve got a thirty-minute drive.”
“We’re leaving the city?”
“Heading to the suburbs. I want you all to myself tonight, so I figured I’d take you somewhere we wouldn’t run into anyone you know.”
He focused on the congested roads as he navigated his way to the interstate, but once we were cruising down 95 North, he appeared totally at ease. “Are you warm? We can turn down the heat.”
“I’m always cold. How did you hear about the place we’re going?”
“It’s near where I grew up.”
“And where’s that?”
“Bucks County. How about you?”
Not a good topic. I adjusted the dial for the heat. “It is a little warm. How long have you had this car?”
“Wow.” He laughed. “You’re really going to completely ignore my question?”
“What did you ask?”
He turned and gave me a look that said he was positive I knew. “Where did you grow up?”
“A little nowhere town out west.”
“What’s it called?”
“Um, Blackwater.”
“How far is it from Philly?”
“What, are you writing a book?”
He laughed again. “No, just trying to get to know my date. The fact that you’re getting defensive only intrigues me more. Why don’t you like talking about where you’re from?”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to.”
I fidgeted, getting cold again. Adjusted the dial, I turned up the heat. “My life three years ago was nothing like it is now. Trust me, there’s nothing intriguing about where I’m from.”
“I highly doubt that. Do you have a big family?”
“Four brothers and one sister.”
He frowned. “How come you didn’t visit them for Thanksgiving?”
“We don’t do holidays. They all have … other obligations.”
He glanced at me and back to the road. “You guys don’t get along?”
Growing up as we had, it was survival of the fittest. Aside from Drew, I didn’t get along with any of them. And Drew was still active military, so the most I saw from him was his handwriting on a postcard since Gavin died. “We’re not really close. We’re only half-siblings.”
“Oh. Did you grow up in the same house?”
House… Trailer… “Yes, but I’m the baby so they were mostly gone by the time I graduated high school. We don’t really keep in touch.” Kenny should have graduated the same year as me, but he’d run away that spring and last I’d heard he was in jail.
“What about your parents?”
“My mom’s still there. I talk to her every couple of weeks.”
“And your dad?”
I sighed. “Can we not do this?”
His eyes strayed from the road, but only briefly. “Sure. Sorry.”
I was terrible at this. No wonder I preferred dating people who didn’t give a shit about the real details of my life. I had no experience with sharing. “Um, what about you? Are you close to your family?”
“Yeah. I only have one sister and my parents are awesome. They’re living in Florida for the winter—snowbirds—so I haven’t seen them since Thanksgiving.”
“Oh.”
“No one’s at the house tonight. I could show you where I grew up.”
I was equally intrigued and frightened to see his childhood home. “Okay.”
We reached a small town in less than thirty minutes. Charming stores dotted the old street and I suddenly felt like I was on the set of Gilmore Girls. “You grew up here?”
“Right down that road.”
“It’s so pretty.”
“It’s a nice area. They filmed the movie Signs in the next town over.”
It looked like a movie set. He parked in a half-full lot filled with expensive cars. As I waited for him to get my door it occurred to me he hadn’t taken me anywhere over the top, but somewhere that would teach me a little bit about him. It was personal and intimate, in a way my other dates weren’t.
The taproom was a restored historic building with exposed stone masonry and glass walls and vaulted ceilings. The menu was New York inspired but simple—gourmet pizzas and samples of exotically seasoned lamb skewers and bacon wrapped scallops. It was delicious and laid back.
The waiter supplied narrow trays of tiny beer glasses, each one a different shade of amber and some tastier than the rest. “I don’t usually drink beer, but this is fun. I like learning the different flavors.”
He nudged the last glass to me. “Drink up. I’m driving.”
I giggled, my tension from earlier loosened after several samples. “Are you trying to get me drunk on the first date?”
“It’s only a first if there’s going to be a second.”
“True.”
The word left my lips before my common sense weighed in. The agreement was one date. One. Yet, the idea of doing this or something like this with Noah again held more appeal than I wanted to admit. I was enjoying myself more than I had on a date in … years. Or … ever.
I raised the glass and sipped. “This one’s good.”
“What’s your degree?”
“Education.”
“Really?”
“Does that surprise you?”
“No, I think there’s a nurturer hidden in you somewhere, the sort who makes her neighbor chicken soup when he’s sick.”
“Well, it was broth—”
“It was sweet.” His hand closed over mine, his thumb tracing the back of my fingers. “What grade do you want to teach?”
“Kindergarten or sixth grade. They’re not as cute in between.”
“I’m glad you didn’t say high school. You’d have a class full of hard-ons and no volunteers to go to the board.”
“I doubt that.”
“No, you don’t. You know boys better than most and you’re well aware of how pretty you are.”
When he called me out like that it made me nervous. “Did you go to college in the city?”
“No, I did a two year school down south that specialized in media, arts, and technology.”
“So you always knew what you wanted to do?”
“Didn’t you?”
“No.”
I just knew I wanted something different, something useful and respectable. I wanted something I could count on not to become obsolete and something that would make others believe I was decent and good—two things I very much wanted to be.
He glanced over his shoulder, but there was no one left in the dining room but us. “Do you wanna get out of here?”
“And go where?”
He shrugged. “Walk around? Drive?”
“Two seconds ago you said I knew boys. That carries over to men.” If leaving here meant driving back to the city and saying goodnight he wouldn’t be rushing us out the door.
His blue eyes met mine and he smiled. “Touché. Will you let me show you where I grew up?”
“Noah…”
“Night’s not over, Avery. Have you been enjoying yourself so far?”
“Yes, but…”
He tossed several twenties on the table and stood. “Come on. It’ll be fun. I’ll show you where my mom keeps the embarrassing pictures of me.”
Unsure if this was a mistake, I followed him. What choice did I have? He was my ride home.