Also, please don’t let her think I was assuming anything if she finds that sleeve of Trojans in the glove box.
Again, I have no idea how to date, so I don’t know what the protocol is anymore for that stuff. Are we allowed to have sex on the first date? Will Amelia want to? Should we run the bases first, a little warm-up before we swing for the fences? This is our first date in nine years, yes, but technically, it’s probably our five hundredth overall. What are the rules for that? And do the condoms show I’m an arrogant jerkoff or a man who learned the hard way never to be careless again with the woman he adores?
Amelia opens the door, and my mouth goes dry.
She’s wearing a strappy dress, dark blue and short, her bare shoulders and chest and legs tanned and soft looking. I don’t think she’s wearing a bra because I can see the outline of her nipples through the thin, silky fabric, which of course makes me wonder if she’s not wearing underwear either.
My eyes flick to her waist. I can juuuust make out the lace of what appears to be a thong arching over her hip and disappearing into the curve of her ass.
Dear Lord. Is a thong sexier than going commando?
According to my cock, yes. Yes, it is.
Amelia smiles, her entire being lighting up. “Hi.”
“He—” I clear my throat. Try again. “Hey. Hello. Hi, are you trying to kill me with that dress?”
She laughs. “I am. Luckily I’m certified in CPR.”
“You’re gonna need to use it, ’cause I think I just went into cardiac arrest. You look gorgeous, A.” I thrust the daisies in her direction like a dickhead, eager and embarrassed and weirdly proud too. Proud I actually had the balls to make this date happen. “For you.”
The fancy florist paper the flowers are wrapped in crinkles as Amelia takes the bouquet. “Aw, they’re beautiful, Rhett, thank you.” She wraps an arm around my neck and pulls me in for a hug, enveloping me in the smell of her perfume.
Flowers. Summer. Sin.
“My pleasure,” I say huskily. “You ready to head out? I’m not trying to be rude, but if you invite me in, we sure as hell ain’t coming back out anytime soon.”
The look in her eyes sharpens. “No problem. Lemme get my purse.”
I’m not sure whether or not to grab her hand on the walk to my truck, so I flip my keys to keep from reaching for her.
“That’s your idea of a family car?” she asks when I open the passenger side door of my brand-new, gunmetal gray F-250.
“Just got it this afternoon. It’s a king cab, so there’s plenty of room for a car seat. You’ll see. It’s also got a five-star safety rating. So the thing’s not just a dad car. It’s a safe and sexy dad car.”
Amelia rolls her eyes and grins. Her dress moves up her thighs as she takes my hand and climbs inside, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from staring.
I drive away from Asheville proper, where Amelia lives, the setting sun slanting through the windshield as we wind our way through the mountains.
Folding down her sun visor, Amelia crosses those fucking legs and says, “So where are we going?”
I adjust my hand on the top of the steering wheel and cut her a glance. “Somewhere way off the beaten path.”
“I have pepper spray.”
“Good. We can use it on the bears.”
By the time I pull into the clearing, the light is golden, and the air is on the right side of warm. I back up so my taillights are facing the river.
“You weren’t kidding,” she says, turning around to peer out the back windows. “We are out here.”
I put the truck in park and roll down all the windows. The steady hush of the nearby water fills the car, along with the sound of crickets. “Honey, we can run naked through these woods for miles, and no one would know.”
“Scary.” Her eyes flick from my face to my crotch. “And hot.”
“Keep looking at my dick, and I can’t promise it’ll behave.”
“What if I don’t want it to behave?”
I punch the ignition button with excessive force, cutting the engine. “I gotta—I wanna feed you first. I’m trying to be a gentleman here, A, but you’re making that really damn difficult.”
She looks at me, lips twitching. “I appreciate that, actually.”
“Actually?” I furrow my brow. “C’mon, Amelia, we aren’t horny teenagers anymore. We’re horny adults. Which means we eat first, then we . . .”
“Engage in some heavy petting?”
“Exactly.”
“Great. Let’s do this.” She opens her door, and I follow suit.
I open the tailgate and set up our picnic. I went all out, basket and blanket and this heavy marble canister thing to keep the wine cold.