“That would be nice,” I accept slowly.
The sight of his yellow Jeep dredges up more overwhelming sensations. If he pressed me against it now, would I let him kiss me again? Is the fact that I’m even wondering that proof that I want him to? He opens the passenger door for me and before I can stop him he lifts me into the seat.
I yelp even as my heart leaps, recalling the last time he gripped my hips. “I’m not that short!”
“I beg to differ.” His mouth curves into a panty-melting grin. What have I gotten myself into?
I cross my arms as if they can protect my heart and shake my head. “I got in here just fine the other night.”
“You scaled it like a rock wall.” He shuts the door and leans in through the open window. “This is a date, Faith. Like it or not.”
The monster dildo may have given him the wrong impression of my expectations for the evening. “This isn’t a date!” He’s already walking around the car. If he heard me he doesn’t respond as he climbs inside.
But as he shifts the Jeep into gear, he flashes me a wicked smile. “Darling, this is a date.”
Chapter 9
We don’t have to go far to get to the restaurant, which is good because Jude drives like a maniac. Either he’d been extra careful the night we picked up Anne from the bar or I’d been too preoccupied to notice. Tonight I find myself wishing I actually had a Last Will and Testament. I might need it sooner rather than later.
Thankfully the designers of his death rig have been thoughtful enough to make the whole interior a giant cage to hang on to when he swerves around corners. I send up a silent prayer of thanks when he pulls into the parking lot. But I’m still glued to my seat when he comes around to help me down.
“Did I go too fast?” he asks when I lurch out of the passenger seat.
“No.” I glare at him and pull away. “But hold on, I vowed I would kiss the ground if I made it here safely.”
“So much for giving you a ride. Next time I’ll let you drive.”
I’m too preoccupied with the thought of next time to respond, so I hurry past him toward the door. He beats me there but not without effort. I have to admit that I like to see the man hustle. He looks good in action. Of course, he looks good all the time.
“I have discovered that the Lucky Dragon is the best hole-in-the-wall Chinese in town.” Jude opens the door and waits for me to enter.
“It’s also the only Chinese in town.” Most girls wouldn’t consider this an impressive first date, but I’m out of practice. A few out-of-date calendar scrolls line the walls and despite the old fast food chain booths that came with the place, the owners have hung a couple of pretty, paper lanterns from the ceiling. In a way it has its own quirky ambience complete with the aromas of soy sauce and frying oil wafting around us.
It’s not in any way intimidating like say a Michelin star restaurant or dinner at the parents, so why do I feel so warm?
No one has ever been nervous in a Chinese restaurant before. I nonchalantly wipe my palms on my jeans, afraid he might take my hand and discover I’m sweating. Jude moves toward a table and I panic. Mumbling an excuse about needing the ladies room, I dart to the safety of the bathroom. Right now that women’s sign holds the promise of a quarantine zone. Jude isn’t coming in here. Once I shut the door behind me, I realize that eventually I will have to go out.
Digging my phone out of my purse, I call my emergency contact, because I’m definitely in crisis. Amie answers in one ring.
“A date isn’t going to kill you.”
I never claimed she was good in a crisis. For the moment I ignore that fact and launch into the situation. “He went toward a table and I didn’t know if I was supposed to wait for him to pull out my chair. Obviously I’m a capable woman who can pull out her own goddamn chair but is it rude not to let him? What if he doesn’t try to at all and I’m left standing next to it looking like an entitled bitch?
“Faith, literally no one in the history has ever overthought a date this much.” I can feel her sigh through the phone. It actually vibrates through the speaker.
“That was helpful.”
“Get your ass out of the bathroom and back to Jude before I come steal him,” she orders me.
“You’re babysitting,” I remind her.
“Where there’s a will,” she threatens. “Seriously, the captain has requested you return to your seat. Stop being pathetic and exit the lavatory.”
I hang up on her just so she knows I don’t find her funny. Someday when we’re old and gray she’s going to crack jokes while I have a coronary. I should probably have a discussion with her about appropriate crisis intervention.
I pause at the mirror, which only reminds me that I never put on a drop of make-up today. Not a confidence booster. Taking a deep breath, I force myself to open the door.