That was just skimming the top of his appeal.
The way he walked. The way he sat, long legs out in front of him. I’m a pretty tall girl at five-nine, but he stood taller, even over me. His broad shoulders, slim waist.
I wondered what he looked like naked.
I wondered what he looked like during sex.
Shit.
I needed to fall asleep, but I was finding it rather difficult with all of these new thoughts swimming around in my head. Never before had a man had this effect on me.
When he was around I was relaxed, yet I felt a pulsing tension. I told him things that I’d never told anyone. Not that they were secrets, but no one had ever bothered to ask. We’d talked about my dream of having a tackle shop. I’d never told anyone about that. Ever.
I lay on my bed in the cabin, glad I’d washed the sheets and blankets a few weeks back. It was the first night I’d stayed there that spring and already I knew I’d be spending a lot of time there that year.
How in the hell did he know where my cabin was? And Newcastle?
Must have been Donnie at the gas station, I figured.
Who better to tell him how to get out here? I’d bought the cabin from him. I should have known. I could have teased Vaughn about poaching information at the gas station.
I rolled over to look at the time on my phone. One-thirty.
I was going to be tired the next day.
Wednesday dragged by slowly.
Thursday did the same.
I didn’t go back out to the cabin, and I didn’t stop at Vaughn’s house every night as I passed, even though I really wanted to.
I was waiting for him to call. Then again, he’d asked me out. I didn’t know what the rules for dating were. Should I have called him? Was the ball in my court? Was I already messing this up? Maybe it wasn’t even a date-date. He didn’t have many friends in town yet, and it’s possible all city guys flirted like that.
How in the fuck was I to know any of this shit? It was Thursday night, and all I could think about while I was in my shop working on a lures I’d promised to finish before the weekend.
My earbuds were in and I was lost in my thoughts, the pieces I was working on, and the music.
Then my phone rang—not that I’d been waiting for it to the past few days or anything.
Vaughn.
I took a deep breath and squeezed my hands tight with excitement before answering the call.
“Hi, Vaughn,” I said, using the mic on my earbuds, not bothering to pull them out.
“Hi, you.” Was it weird that I liked that he wouldn’t call me Mutt? And that him calling me “you” was really kind of hot. It was weird, but I was weird and I liked it. A shitload.
“What’s up?” I asked, trying to be casual and praying he wasn’t calling to cancel.
“Not a lot. It’s been a busy week at the office and I haven’t seen you, even though I heard you drive by every night. So I thought I’d call and make sure we were still on for tomorrow.”
Relief. I was alone and my balled up hands shot up in the air like I’d just scored a touchdown.
“Yeah, I’m still good for tomorrow. I hope you made a list of names to go through.”
I hope you’ll finally kiss me.
“I have done nothing else but think of names to try.”
I laughed because he actually sounded a little desperate. Desperate for me? For my name? For a kiss? I was getting a little desperate myself.
I played with the lure I’d been working on and held it up to inspect. Things were looking up. Lots of things were looking up.
“Good for you. I hope you crack the code. You know, I suppose you could always ask Donnie.”
The line was silent.
“The gas station guy?”
“You know who I’m talking about.”
He chuckled, having been caught. “I’ve never asked him anything. In fact, I was a little nervous that the hints he was dropping were leading me to some sort of community hazing thing or something. It was strange.”
“Yeah, right.” Although, Donnie was strange as hell.
“I wouldn’t lie to you. I went in, and we talked a little bit. He suggested Newcastle. Then I asked him how to get to Johnston’s Chute, and he gave me directions to your place.”
I shook my head, all along picturing Donnie doing it.
“What a shithead. I knew you didn’t know where my cabin was.” I laughed despite myself. It totally sounded like something that old fart would do. He was always telling me I needed a man, but I thought he was just teasing me since I never had one.
“He might have a thing for you. If you want to see what he’s doing tomorrow I think you’ve got a good shot.”
“Nope, I’ve got plans.” I sat up a little straighter, proud.
“Plans, huh? Anyone I know?”
“Just some guy. I’m not sure it’s a date, but I do have plans.”
His voice grew lower and the sound of it gave me goose bumps on my arms. “O’Fallon, it’s definitely a date.”
I smiled to myself.