The Truth

“I’ll show you a hot, young fantasy!” With that declaration, I pull him up from the couch. “Let’s go. I want the full Stryker experience.”

“Where are we going?” he questions, smiling at my antics but also looking a bit perplexed that we’re not just going for it on the couch. I almost reconsider and shove him toward the bedroom before he can change his mind about this whole thing, but I really do want everything.

At least once. So I shove him toward the door instead.

“Where are we going? I don’t have shoes!” he argues.

I grin and keep pulling. “To complete a dare from your daughter!”

Chapter 15

Daniel

When she starts pulling me toward the door, I have no idea what to expect. I’m just glad I can shove my feet into tennis shoes before we’re out the door. Hell, it’s been months since I’ve been on anything that can be construed as a date, and that was to a dry and boring business dinner event that required a ‘plus one guest’. I took one of the female executives, and it was totally platonic.

So forgetting what dates entail isn’t exactly a surprise, but this might qualify as more of a kidnapping than a date. Tiffany pulls us downstairs and hustles to my car, taking the keys from me and shoving me into the passenger seat before getting behind the wheel.

She’s been driving like a woman on a mission ever since. I really don’t know how long I can put up with the tension. “Are we almost there?”

“Getting close. It’ll be worth it,” she promises for the fourth time. “Would’ve been faster in Cammie.”

She cuts her eyes my way before leaning forward to peer at the sky. Something she sees there puts an extra urgency in her foot, and the speedometer creeps up another five miles per hour. My dependable, reliable engine whines a little, not used to being driven like a sportscar, but it settles in without too much complaint.

Oddly, though I’m used to being the planner who leads, I find that watching Tiffany’s excitement is enough, keeping me in the moment and not worrying about where we’re going. I’m curious, of course, but more so because of the insight it’ll give me into her mind.

“So, what exactly did Elle dare you to do?” I ask her, trying to find something to do besides sound like a kid on a long car ride. “Kidnapping?”

Tiffany chuckles, keeping her eyes on the road. “Totally. And grand theft auto. Sort of a simultaneous, two-for-one felony thing.”

“Very funny.”

Tiffany shrugs, going a bit more serious. “Elle dared me to live a little and be spontaneous, and you’re coming along for the ride. Literally. I figure this is a good way to start an ‘us’, because of anyone, you need to let loose even more than I do.”

Ten minutes later, Tiffany turns off the highway, and I realize where we’re going. When we park at the beach and she turns off the engine, I look around in appreciation, my eyes eventually landing on her. “This is a good view.”

“And no shoes needed,” she points out, glancing at my untied shoes as she pulls her heels off to reveal white painted toenails.

“Nope.” I laugh and push my shoes off, shaking my head. “It’s been years since I’ve been here.”

“Me too,” Tiffany says. “I wanna say . . . two years, maybe? Maybe more . . . yeah, it is more. Last time I was here, Elle was still living in the States.”

“Well then,” I tell her, getting out of the passenger side, “maybe we can remember what beach dates are like?”

It’s impromptu, it’s silly . . . and I can’t think of a better way to break out of our own ruts and get into new territory together.

“Here,” I tell Tiffany, reaching down to snag a shell. “You find a partner for it, and we can make earrings to commemorate our first date.”

Tiffany holds the small white shell to her ear. “What do you think?” I push her hair behind her ear to see better and smile in answer. Then she gently presses the shell to my throat. “Or we can turn them into necklaces, one for each of us.”

“I can definitely say I’ve never considered wearing a puka shell necklace, but you make a compelling argument for them.” I trace a line down her throat, imagining it adorned with white . . . shells.

I lean forward, planning to meet her lips for a kiss, but she hops out of reach. Leaning down to splash a bit of water at me, she teases, “I don’t kiss on the first date.”

“Tiffany,” I growl, both at the loss of the kiss now and the promise of her withholding them.

“Am I in trouble, Sir?” Her eyes sparkle with delight and then she squeals before taking off. The waves splash around her ankles, spraying me as I chase her down the beach.