As he pulled his truck into the parking lot next to Charlotte’s apartment, he hoped that decision wouldn’t bite him later. He swung into an empty space. Julie’s car was parked in the spot next to them—or he could only assume it was Julie’s, judging by the pink fuzzy dice hanging from the rearview mirror, The Dough Knot decal on the back windshield, and a bumper sticker that read My Cupcakes Could Beat Up Your Honor Student.
“You and Julie are good friends?” He shifted the truck into park, not in a hurry to get out and end their night.
“A lot more than that. We’re almost like business partners. She’s part time at the bakery and helps me out with Zoe when I need it.” Charlotte tucked her hair behind her ears, eyes bright even in the dimness of the truck cab. She always lit up when talking about something—or someone—important to her. Her theory was right—eyes don’t lie. “She’s my best friend.”
“That’s great you get to work together.” He gestured toward the apartment. “So, did she give you a curfew?” He hoped midnight. Though he doubted Charlotte would turn into a pumpkin or however that fairy tale went. And the whole “left her shoe” behind thing was a genius way to get a guaranteed call back from the prince. Too bad he and Charlotte were in his truck tonight, or he might try to play the same card.
Because right now, he couldn’t imagine waiting until next Tuesday at 5:40 to see Charlotte again.
“She didn’t say.” Charlotte glanced at the clock on his dashboard. “It’s not quite ten o’clock yet.”
“Then there’s plenty of time to ask you a question.” He leaned toward her, unable to resist the magnetic pull she had on him since the first moment he stepped into The Dough Knot and saw her in that cute little apron.
“What question?” Her hand brushed his on the truck seat, and their fingers threaded together as if they’d had a lifetime of practice.
“A very important one.” His eyes lowered to her lips, pink and glossy, and a hint of color flushed her cheeks to match.
“Important how?” She lifted her chin a notch, eyes expectant. Waiting.
He leaned an inch closer, his voice deepening. His heart started a stampede in his chest. “Important to me.”
Her dark lashes fluttered shut.
He shouldn’t do this. It was their first date. But it felt as if he’d known her his entire life. As if all those weeks of small talk at the bakery had counted as dates leading up to this moment. He had no intention of wasting this moment or attempting to recreate it later. For the first time in a long time, he wanted to live right now. With Charlotte.
He pressed his lips against hers.
She kissed him back, her grip on his hand tightening. He used it to pull her closer on the bench seat, then cupped his hand around her neck and deepened their kiss. Her free hand clutched the front of his shirt, wrinkling the green button-down he’d spent fifteen minutes ironing earlier that evening.
He didn’t mind.
She broke away first, turning to press her cheek against his and catch her breath. “That wasn’t a question.”
It had most definitely been a statement. He grinned, rubbing his cheek against hers before pulling away to look her in the eyes. “I was just going to ask if I could kiss you.”
She studied him a second. “No you weren’t. You had a real question, and you got sidetracked.”
She’d nailed that one. His eyes couldn’t lie, either, apparently. He grinned back, wanting to kiss her again. He leaned forward to do just that, but she pressed her palm flat against his chest and held him off. “Wait a second. What’s the real question?”
He stole a quick peck on her cheek anyway. “Brittany and Adam’s couple’s shower is coming up. And I want you to come.”
“I have to, silly. I’m delivering the cookie cake, remember?”
She was even more adorable when confused. He reached up to tuck her hair behind her ear before she could do it first. “I know. I mean, I want you to come with me. As my date.”
It would completely throw Adam for a loop after their conversation the other day at the gym, but he’d explain ahead of time what had changed, if need be. His friend would be happy for him.
Hopefully, Melissa would be too.
His exuberance dimmed slightly. Melissa. He had put the guilt out of his head all this time, wrapped up in the joy of this . . . this thing developing with Charlotte.
Would Melissa ever have this kind of relationship with someone? Ever feel this connection? Her fiancé had bailed on her. Her accident had been Will’s fault. It didn’t seem fair, or right, that he was free to do as he pleased while she remained so limited.
He tried to shove the doubts away, but they wouldn’t quite budge. Maybe he was moving too fast. Maybe he should slow down and not get involved—
Charlotte slid closer to him, craned her neck, and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. “I’d love to come with you.”
He shoved the doubts away and returned her kiss.
How could one man possibly be so talented? Will obviously possessed a variety of survival skills from his time in the service. He knew how to iron, could parallel park on a dime, and sang along to the radio better than the majority of the artists playing. On top of that, boy, could he kiss.