Take Heart (5 page)

“Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They’re beautiful.”

“This is the part where I’m supposed to pull out a cheesy line and tell you that you are far more beautiful, huh?”

“No,” I say adamantly. “Don’t ever say something you don’t mean. Just be real and genuine. I’ll value your honesty far more than any compliment you could sling my way.”

I think about that statement and then realize it’s only a half-truth. “Now having said that, if you feel the need to give me a compliment, I’m not opposed to that either.” I tease.

He laughs. “Well, in that case, you are far more beautiful than those flowers...but they smell better.

I let out a hearty laugh.

He grins. “What? You think I’m joking?” he asks, all serious. He looks back and forth between the road and me.

That makes me laugh even harder. I’ve never met anyone so charming and so blatantly offensive at the same time. It’s truly a gift—the way he can work both traits to his advantage. He boldly reaches over and uses the backs of his knuckles to lightly brush my cheek. My breath catches and I instantly stop laughing. I can sense a shift in the air. Suddenly, this car feels a hell of a lot smaller. He proceeds to run a single finger down the side of my neck and over my bare shoulder, making me shiver involuntarily.

“This is an incredibly sexy look on you.”

I clear my throat, feeling slightly self-conscious, but more turned on than anything else.

“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”

“Good to know.” He pinches my side playfully, making me jump. He’s just found my ticklish spot, and based on his smug smile, he knows it.

I try to distract myself from the sexual tension by looking out the window and enjoying the view. I love how the weather is warm and the trees are still green in October. I glance at all of the overpasses that used to be intimidating. I think about how my life has changed so drastically in just a few days. Last week, I was living in the same small town I’d always known, and working the same two jobs with the same small community of people, just traveling through life, day in and day out.

Now, I’ve moved onto a much bigger city that I’ve only visited a handful of times, and where I know virtually
no one,
I mean, other than Raven and Eric, I have no one else. The thought is both scary and invigorating.

I sneak a peek at Chase again, and think about how nice it is to sit here, silently. I don’t feel pressured to carry on a conversation. I’m sure with any other first date, this would be awkward. But with him, it feels natural, comfortable. I feel like I can be myself and not worry about presenting some unrealistic, “acceptable” version of who I am.

When we arrive at Fino, Chase walks around the vehicle to open my door. I step out, and he gently places his hand on the middle of my back, leading me inside. The gesture makes me feel exceptional. I have to bite my lip to keep a huge smile from breaking out onto my face. The last thing I want is to look like some overeager, love struck teenager.

We’re instantly greeted by the hostess and we follow her to a  cozy table for two. The restaurant has a welcoming, romantic feel to it with its earthy color tones. We take our seats, grab the menus, and start surveying our options.

“I take it you’ve never been here before?” Chase asks.

I shake my head in response.

“Well, I hope you like it. Order whatever you want. If you want any suggestions, just let me know.”

“I will. Thank you.”

When the server comes up to our table, Chase orders a beer and I choose to stick with water.

“You sure you don’t want a drink?” he checks.

“No, I had more than my fair share of beer and ice cream this past weekend.”

“Beer and ice cream, huh? Sounds like the breakfast of champions.”

“Oh, it was, believe me. And lunch. And dinner.”

“Now that’s a real woman—someone who can actually eat a meal and enjoy something more than a salad. I fully support your healthy eating habits,” he winks.

My entire face flushes, and I turn my attention back to the menu. I wish I’d remembered to bring a pair of sunglasses, because, my God, if this isn’t a sunglasses moment, I don’t know what is.
Don’t be awkward and weird, Mia. He’ll sense it.

When our waiter returns with our drinks, we order dinner. I end up going with the pan-seared salmon and Chase orders the Pacific Gulf shrimp. We hand the menus back and Chase folds his arms over the table, focusing his attention on me. He’s about to start the classic getting-to-know-you inquisition.

“How’s Austin treating you so far?”

I smile, relieved. “I love it. It’s so nice to be back. Only this time, I get to stay.”

“So you’re staying here indefinitely, then?”

“Yeah, for now. I have nowhere else to go. I have some money saved up, but not enough to make it on my own, unfortunately.”

“You don’t like sharing a place with Raven?”.

“No, it’s not that. I just don’t like having to depend on other people when I’ve been taking care of myself for so long. In a way, moving down here is taking a step backwards. I had to swallow some pride, which I hate doing.”

“Me too,” he agrees. “If you don’t mind me asking, why’d you leave home?”

I suck in a sharp breath and try to think of a way to skirt around the issue.

“Um, my mom and I haven’t been getting along too well these days. We kinda had a tiny argument, and she needed a little space. So I packed my bags, and drove ten hours to give her that space, so she could think long and hard about her actions. She’d tell you that I’m being dramatic, but I choose to think of myself as an over-achieving daughter.” I joke.

“Life’s all about perspective,” he says instantly.

I giggle and feel some of the tension leave my body.

I fold my hands over the table and scoot forward. “Enough about me, what’s your family like? Do have any siblings?”

He leans back in his chair and relaxes. “I do. I have an older sister. She and I are extremely close when she isn’t blowing up my phone and bugging the hell out of me on a daily basis. She’s twenty-eight—two years older than me—and she lives with her husband in North Austin. What about you? Any siblings?”

I shake my head. “Nope, I’m your stereotypical only child who hates to share.

He leans forward again, keeping his eyes trained on mine. “Can I tell you a secret? I’m glad you don’t like to share, because I don’t either.”

Holy shit. Is it hot in here, or is it just me?

“What about your parents?” I quickly ask, throwing the spotlight back on him.

“My dad owns a furniture making company and my mom teaches the fourth grade at a local elementary school. They’re both still happily married.”

“That’s awesome. I admire couples who can stay happily married for that long.”

“Are your parents divorced?”

“Yeah, they divorced when I was little and my dad moved down here a few years after that. Neither one of them ever remarried, though. My dad passed away a couple years ago, and it’s been my mom and I ever since.”

“I’m really sorry about your dad,” he says sincerely. “What happened?”

“He died in a car accident on his way home from work one night. Drunk driver,” I mutter dejectedly.

This is a sore spot. I don’t like to talk about my dad. The fact that his death was caused by a drunk driver, and my mother is a raging alcoholic, only pours salt into the wound. Even though she was having problems long before he died, I only grew to resent her more after he was killed. If she wasn’t so selfish, my father would have never left her and moved here. He’d probably still be alive, and I would’ve had a chance at a normal childhood. But then, a part of me feels incredibly guilty for feeling that way about my own mom. It’s so emotionally draining to love a parent with all your heart, and yet, completely despise them for who they are. It’s a vicious cycle, taking its toll, slowly gnawing away at you like a chronic illness.

Thankfully, the food arrives in perfect time. Everything smells delicious and is cooked to perfection. We dig in. I love seafood because it fills you up, but not to the point where you are stuffed and can’t move. It’s a comfortable kind of filling.

“How does everything taste?” he asks.

“Absolutely delicious. Want some?” I offer.

He shakes his head. “No, thank you. You?”

“Yeah, actually I’ll try a bite if you’re willing to share.”

“No way. I was only trying to be polite,” he deadpans.

I lean forward, set my forearm on the table, and lower my voice a couple of notches. “Give me a bite of that shrimp, you dirty whore.”

He laughs. “Oh, really? You want some of this, do you?” The way he says that, it’s hard to tell whether he means the shrimp or himself.

I narrow my eyes and sit back. “You know, on second thought, I changed my mind. It doesn’t really look all that appetizing, after all.”

His eyes darken and simmer, releasing a hunger that makes him look dangerous. He’s challenging me, daring me. I feel my body warm up in response, the temperature only getting hotter the longer we stare. I break eye contact and reach for my glass of ice water. I take a few gulps to try and cool myself down from the inside out. I close my thighs together to try and relieve some of the pressure down there—a feeble attempt. Instead, I try to refocus all my attention on my dinner, avoiding his hypnotic gaze like the plague. At this rate, it’s going to be a long night.

c     h     a     s     e

I’m rock hard under the table. Jesus Christ. I’m in a restaurant, on a date with a beautiful woman, having good conversation, but all I can seem to think about is bending her over this table and fucking her until she can’t see straight. She wants it bad, too. I can see it in her eyes. She’s looking at me like she wants me to ravage her sexy body, right here, right now.

Get it under control, Chase.

I practically inhale my food and signal for our check so we can get the hell out of here. I need to cool down. There’s somewhere I want to take her after this, and for once, the backseat of my car is not what I have in mind. I sign the receipt, leave a generous tip, and waste no time leaving.

“Where are we going?” she asks, once we’ve made it to the car.

“It’s a surprise. Just relax and enjoy the ride.”

I drive us into downtown with the windows down. It’s gotten a little cooler out, but I think it’s safe to assume the breeze feels nice for both of us. Many of the restaurants and bars are lit up with Christmas lights, making the drive that much more enjoyable. This is an Austin thing. They leave up lights all year ’round. Unless you live here, you really wouldn’t understand how appropriate of a thing that is to do for Austin’s vibe. We pass multiple food carts that serve some of the most amazing hangover food you’ll ever eat, and I mentally make a note to bring Mia here soon.

Fifteen minutes later, we reach our destination. I turn off the car, grab the cooler from the back seat, and step out. She follows. When she closes the door, I shoot her a nervous glance over the top of my car. I hope she likes what I have planned.       

“Mini-golf?” she asks, amused.

“Damn right, mini-golf,” I defend.

“What’s in the cooler?”

“Beer. It’s BYOB. No better way to have some fun, than to drink booze and get your ass kicked in a round of mini-golf. See how that works?”

She shakes her head and smiles. “You know, you continue to surprise me. I thought I had you figured out, but apparently not.”

“Good. Keep trying to figure me out. It’s far more entertaining when you’re wrong. Plus, mystery keeps romance alive, and I plan on having this thing between us go on for a little while longer, like, maybe another week or two.”

“You’re shameless,” she muses.

“Don’t you ever forget it.”

After paying, we pick out our clubs, and the color of ball we each want. I choose red and she chooses purple. We walk to the first hole, and I set the cooler down and open the lid. I fetch two cold cans of beer and pass one to Mia. It’s dark out now, but the course is lit up nicely. There are only two other small groups here, but they’re quite a ways ahead of us, so we won’t have to worry about feeling rushed.

“Okay, so here’s how this is going to work. We will take turns, and for every time that we miss a shot, the other one gets to ask a light question. No more heavy stuff. Just fun, random facts.”

“I like that a lot. You get to go first because I want to ask the first question. Here, I’ll hold your beer while you take your shot,” she says, sticking her club under her elbow and holding out her hand.

I place my beer in her hand, line up the ball, and take a swing. Miss.

“What’s your favorite movie?” she asks.

“
The Dark Knight
.” I say instantly. “Your turn.”

She hands me the beers and lines herself up. She takes her shot and misses.

“What did you want to be when you were a kid?”

“A Marine Biologist. Honestly, when it came down to it, I just wanted to see the ocean and swim with a dolphin,” she laughs.

I take the next shot and make it. She follows. Misses.

“What’s your favorite band?”

She looks at me like I just asked her to solve a physics problem.

“Um...are you crazy? I have a new favorite band every five minutes. I could never choose just one. It all depends on my mood. I do have a favorite album. Does that count?”

“Yeah, that works.”

“
The Dark Side of the Moon
by Pink Floyd is easily one of the greatest albums ever made.”

“That’s a great one,” I agree. “You have excellent taste, but I can’t say that I’m surprised.”

“Why, thank you,” she says coyly.

We continue playing for an hour or so, and all too soon, we are coming up on the last hole. By this point, we both realized how much we suck at mini-golf. I can’t be too upset about that, though, because it gave us numerous chances to find out more information about each other.

She learned that my favorite color is blue, my favorite flavor of ice cream is mint chocolate chip, and I had my first real kiss when I was fourteen. She asked about the scar above my left eyebrow, which happened when I was seven. I was jumping on our couch and fell off. My face hit the corner of our coffee table just right, which resulted in a trip to the hospital for five stitches. Mom was pissed. She had told me multiple times that day not to be jumping on the furniture. Lesson learned the hard way.

As for Mia: I know that she has an intense, love-hate relationship with coffee, she’s dying to travel to Australia, and perhaps, most importantly, if she could have one superpower, she would want to move things with her mind.
Epic.

She filled me in on what her hometown was like. She told me that the town has a strong Swedish heritage (which, apparently, is a big deal in Lindsborg) and the people are very friendly. She said the town itself wasn’t a bad place to be raised—more like it was the house she was raised in—but she didn’t go into any detail. She also filled me in on a couple of her crazy adventures with Hadley—including a steamy kiss they shared together, which instantly got my mind wandering. I have no doubt she did that on purpose to fuck up my game. And damn it, it worked.

Even though we’re both shitty mini-golfers, she’s technically winning. So, I decide to switch up the rules. That way, no matter what happens, I’ll come out ahead.

“Okay, so since this is the last hole, I’m raising the stakes a little bit. Sound good?”

She looks at me skeptically, but nods.

“If I can make this a hole-in-one, I get to kiss you. Deal?”

She crosses her arms over her chest. “And if I make it in one shot, what do I get?”

“Well, I’m inclined to say that you would have the rare and great opportunity to kiss me, but I’ll be nice and let you pick your own prize.”

“Hmmm,” she taps her index finger against her lips. “How about if I make it, then I get to drive your precious Mustang back home?”

No fucking way.

Absolutely not.

Over my dead body.

“Fine, deal. Shake on it.” I stick out my hand, resentful. She grabs it and gives me a firm shake like when we first met. I’m not that worried because the chances of her actually making this are slim. Plus, I’m assuming she doesn’t know how to drive a stick shift.

She sets her ball down and steps back to the side. She bends her body slightly and lines up her club, concentrating on the task. I take the moment to check out her ass in those jeans.
Perfection.
She takes a few deep breaths and lightly rocks the club back and forth. She pulls back and hits the ball with quite a bit of force, but she has to because there’s a large (mini) hill. The ball hurdles over the hill, but because Mia hit it with too much force, it goes over and down the opposite side, hitting the ledge.

“That’s ridiculous!”

The pouty look on her face is so pathetic, I can’t help but laugh. She’s absolutely adorable. I casually stroll to where she was standing, and set my ball down. I turn back to look at her real quick. “Now remember, if I make this, then I get to kiss you. No going back on your word just because you suck.”

She rolls her eyes. “Fine.”

I look down at the ball and concentrate hard on making this shot. It’s lined up perfectly, and I’m preparing to take my swing. At the last second, I switch it up and start moving quickly towards the hole, using the club to slide the ball the entire way down.

“Hey, that’s cheating!” Mia shouts.

I manage to get it over the hill and it sinks directly into the hole. I turn around and point my club in her direction.

“That, my lovely Mia, is called a hole-in-one. I do believe you owe me a kiss.”

“No way. I’m not kissing you after that poor excuse for a shot.”

“Face the facts. You lost that bet and it’s time for you to pay up.”

“If you can cheat to win then I can cheat to get out of the bet.”

“On what grounds?”

“On the grounds that you cheated!”

“First, you reject me, then you defame my character? How far will you go?”

“It’s not a defamation of character if it’s true!”

I contemplate how I’m going to be able to bargain a kiss out of this girl. Suddenly, inspiration strikes like a lightning bolt.

“I’ll tell you what, because I want that kiss so badly, I’ll let you drive my Mustang home regardless of the fact that you lost.”

She opens her mouth to give me a response but then quickly snaps it shut. A moment or two goes by, and she’s still standing there silently. I slowly make my way towards her despite her defensive stance. As I approach, she backs up. I bring the club around her back and use it to pull her body right up against mine so she’s trapped.

We’re standing so close that I can feel her hot breath against the front of my throat where my shirt is open. I place my hand on the side of her neck, just below her ear. I lean in, my face just mere centimeters from hers, and bring my mouth to her earlobe. I gently tug it in between my teeth and give it a playful nip. Her breathing becomes shallow, and it only winds me up more. I want to make this woman completely fall apart in my arms. I exhale directly into her ear and she begins to sway. I drop the club and wrap my other arm around her back.

I nuzzle her cheek and pull my head back just a fraction so I can look into her eyes.

“Admit it, baby, you wanted me to make the shot.”

She tenses up and my hand moves from her neck down to tightly grip her hip. Her eyes look like hot, hazel lava, like she’s melting away and burning with desire. I do this to her. I make her feel this way. And when the time comes to have her in my bed, I’ll give her the hardest eruption she’s ever had.

I swiftly move in and fuse my mouth to hers before it’s too late. It only takes her a moment to process what I’ve done, and she closes her eyes and reciprocates. It starts out slow and gentle, but quickly escalates to passionate and frenzied. Her lips are as soft as satin. My heart is pounding so hard; I can feel the throbbing on my lips as I kiss her. She’s matching my hurried pace, and I not-so-subtly slip my tongue in her mouth and massage hers. My fingers slide up the back of her neck and my fist is in her hair, holding her face to mine. She tastes like beer, but her kisses are far more intoxicating than the alcohol.

She places her hands on either side of my face and our bodies bind together like one. It’s a good thing we’re the only ones here, because with the way we’re kissing, it’s not suitable for children...or uptight prudes. It’s taking everything I have not to pick her up and walk her to my car.

When we finally get so low on oxygen, or so high on each other that we’re lightheaded, we break the kiss. I rest my forehead against hers, and take a moment to calm down and listen to our accelerated breathing. That’s twice in one hour that this girl has sent me into a massive tailspin of arousal.

“That was incredible,” I say, breathless.

“Yeah, it was alright, I guess. A little anti-climactic after waiting for you to take the final shot, but whatever,” she pants.

I throw my head back and laugh. God this woman slays me. Kissing her hard on the lips once more, I release her, and reach down to pick up the cooler.

“Come on, let’s get the hell out of here.”

 “Are you taking me back to my place?”

“Do you want to go back to your place?” I freeze, holding my breath.
Say no.

“Not really. I don’t care where we go, but I’m not ready to go back yet.”

“Good, because I was going to take you back to my place for a bit.”

She places her hands on her hips and raises an eyebrow like I’m up to no good. “Is that so?”

“Don’t worry. I told you before that I’d be on my best behavior, and I meant it.”

She gives me a suspicious look.

“Okay, fine, maybe not my very best behavior, but it certainly won’t be my worst. Now let’s get out of here.” I throw my arm around the back of her neck and pull her into me. As much as I hate doing the whole long-term-girlfriend thing, I have to admit, Mia’s growing on me.