I lifted an eyebrow at him, but couldn’t help the grin that spread across my face. “That was over a month ago, Avery, I can’t believe you remembered that.”
“Why wouldn’t I? I was at the shop the other day, heard a guy making plans to go to a “sip and paint” event with his wife, so I asked him about it because it sounded like something you would like.”
“So you thought you should bring me to a place men bring their wives?”
He looked down at me with his eyes wide, then broke into a laugh when he saw I was struggling to keep a straight face. “Stop playing, Tori. Now you’re about to have me over thinking shit too.”
“Seriously though, I’m actually proud of you, Avery. This was a nice choice for a date, especially after sushi,” I said, missing the warmth of his body as he released my waist and stepped away.
“What, you didn’t think I could plan a good one?”
My eyebrows dipped in a playful scowl. “Well, maybe if you would take one of your matches on a second date, I would know.”
“Ouch.” Avery brought his hand to chest, grimacing as if he was in pain. “Why are you doing me like that?”
“Doing you like what?”
“Trying to make me feel bad about that. I mean, you said if I wasn’t feeling it, I wasn’t feeling it, and not to sweat it, right?”
I looked up at him to nod. “Right.”
“That’s what I’m doing then,” he said. “Not sweating it. You ready to get out of here?”
Our paintings were dry, so we loaded them into his car, and then headed back to my house. In the driveway, he got out to open my door, then carried my painting to my front door.
“Hey… you know what else your dad told me?”
I turned to him as I fished my keys out of my purse. “What’s that?”
“He said you were a dancer.”
“Oh, jeez,” I said, bursting into laughter. “I did a few years of ballet when I was a little, and to this day, he swears I could have been Misty Copeland. Avery, I was terrible at ballet then, and I’m terrible at dancing now.”
“Terrible?”
I nodded my head. “Yes, terrible. I mean, I can keep the beat, but that’s about it. And I can grind with the best of them, Des taught me when we were back in college so I wouldn’t totally embarrass her at the club.”
“I’ll be the judge of that. Next date, I’m taking you somewhere we can dance.”
“Ok, but I warned you….”
“Duly noted.” Avery placed my paper-wrapped canvas in the decorative chair beside the door as he watched me unlock it, then turn back to him. He was leaning against the door, giving me a smirk that was somehow sexier than his full smile.
“Why are you looking at me like that?”
He shrugged. “No real reason. Thinking about one more thing your dad told me.”
“Okay… what?” I asked, cocking my head to the side.
Avery pushed away from the door, and stepped towards me, prompting me to take a step back. “He said you were ticklish. Like… really, really ticklish… but only in one very particular spot.” He gave me a wicked grin as he came forward another step, and I lifted a finger in warning as I took one more — the last one I could— back.
“Don’t you dare, Avery. I hated getting tickled, and I’ve outgrown it anyway.” I pressed my back against the door as he closed the last distance between us. I really had outgrown it, but I didn’t want him trying it anyway… just in case.
“Then why,” he said, placing his hands at the exact spot on my waist, “Are you so scared?”
“I’m not.” It came out in an unintended whisper, because I couldn’t pull in a deep enough breath to speak aloud. He was so close, and it was as if my body recognized him, and was trying to tell me, this is the guy who made us feel so damned good.