His gaze slowly drifted back to me. As his eyes scanned me, it seemed the man was already forgotten. “From lots of things.” Shoving off the wall, he cleared his throat. “Ready?”
I took a moment to catch up. A lot was coming at me at 5:03 in the morning. Luke Archer wanted to take me on a date. A breakfast one. I’d never been on a breakfast date. Certainly never as a first date. With a professional baseball player. That player being on the same team I’d just landed my dream job on. The same player who’d given me the best sex of my life by an infinite margin but brought feelings to the surface that scared me. Feelings that ran deeper than I was used to. Feelings that felt too intense for the brevity of our relationship.
“The rest of the team is staying at this hotel, Luke. Someone could see us on our ‘date.’” Even as I voiced my concern, I fell into step beside him as he moved for the elevators.
“And all it would look like is an athletic trainer and a player who have been working together a lot lately having breakfast together. The only people who will know we’re on a date are the two of us.” He punched the down button and turned to face me. He was in a good-fitting pair of jeans, a thermal that clung to him in all the right places, and had on his team hat. He wasn’t naked—he wasn’t touching me—but my heartbeat didn’t seem to know the difference.
“And you’ll keep your hands, and other parts, to yourself?”
“If I have to,” he answered as we stepped onto the elevator.
It was empty, and that wasn’t good. Not when the doors were going to seal us shut inside a small space. I backed into the corner to put some space between us. When Luke noticed, a smirk started moving into place. Then he put himself in the opposite corner like he was proving something.
“Why a date?” I asked, cursing the elevator as it seemed to crawl down floors. “After everything we’ve already done . . .” I had to clear my throat when it felt like Luke was doing it to me all over again with that look. “It isn’t like you have to woo me or anything. We kind of plowed through the normal steps of relationship progression.”
A goofy grin spread on his face when I said plow. “And what if I want to ‘woo’ you?”
“And what if I’m not the kind of girl who wants to be wooed?”
“You don’t have to be into jewelry and movie dates to be wooed. You’re special. I want to show you that. I want to prove that to you.”
My body started to creep away from its corner. “I’m not the jewelry and movie dates type of girl.”
“I know.” He nodded. “You’re the hubcapped-sized pancake type of girl. The one who’d rather have a tree planted than a dozen long-stemmed roses. The one who’d rather go boogie-boarding in Big Sur than have a spa day.” He shoved out of his corner, moving toward me. “Need me to keep going?”
I bit my lip, shaking my head.
“Plus, I want to prove to you that I’m capable of doing more than the physical part of a relationship. As damn insanely perfect as you and I are in that department, I want to prove to you I’m available for the other stuff. That I’m open and capable of it.”
The elevator doors couldn’t have opened at a better time. The last of the air had been sucked out of the small space, and I was one more word or look away from throwing myself at him. The rush of fresh air washed over me, clearing my head as I stepped into the lobby on the first floor.
Other than the hotel employees, no one else was around, and the restaurant he led me to was the one only a few steps away from the elevators. He had actually given this more thought than just taking me to breakfast—he’d made sure it would be quiet and we wouldn’t have to go far—and something about seeing that he’d put so much thought into this made me feel exactly what he’d promised to prove to me—that I was special to him.
The hostess clearly recognized Archer when we stepped inside the restaurant, but she must have been warned the Shock was in the building for the night and advised not to fangirl. She cleared her throat and diverted her gaze. “Two for breakfast?”
Luke’s shoulder bumped mine. “Two for breakfast. And would it be okay if we had a table that’s a little more private?”
The hostess fumbled with the menus, her cheeks going redder and redder with every word from him. The poor thing couldn’t have been much out of high school. “Of course, Mr. Archer,” she replied before she winced. “I mean, of course, sir. I have no idea what your name is.”
By this point, I was starting to feel uncomfortable for her, especially when the menus slid out of her arms again as she led us to one of the tables tucked away from the open part of the dining room. There were only a couple diners in the restaurant and, thank god, none of them were from the Shock.