“Well, the owner used to work out with me. He always said if I wanted a table to call him personally,” Chase says, sliding out of the truck and coming around to my door.
His hands are respectable as he helps me down, though they linger a little longer than deemed appropriate on my hips. “I bet you take all the girls here,” I tease.
“No, never. You’re the only one I’ve ever brought.”
We stare at each other for several seconds, much passing between us. Both of us recognize that our situation is new, but nonetheless real. I can see his affection, his desire, and his happiness reflecting in his eyes, and I’m sure he can see mine. It’s getting harder and harder to not tell him that I’m completely and utterly in love with him, but I’m still not quite there.
Almost.
But I want it to mean… forever.
Chase retrieves the baby carrier and bag and leads me to the restaurant, his hand protectively and possessively positioned on my lower back. Inside, the lighting is low and romantic, as soft Italian music plays through the restaurant. The hostess gives us a smile and a quick, appreciative glance at Chase, but doesn’t let her eyes linger too long. She smiles at me, one I return as I acknowledge her private thoughts. Yep, he’s hot.
And he’s mine.
Chase gives his name to the hostess, who leads us to the back of the restaurant to a small table. She doesn’t linger, doesn’t flirt, and doesn’t check him out anymore, and I can’t help but smile, a reminder that not all women are skanky, dirty hos. “Your server will be with you shortly,” she says with a smile before retreating back to the front.
A wooden high chair appears moments later, turned over to hold the carrier seat. I place the bag on the floor as Chase fusses over Milo, making sure the seat is secure. Then, he holds out my seat, his hand grazing against my spine as I lower into my chair. My body tingles in anticipation of later this evening.
“This place is beautiful,” I tell him, glancing around and checking out the ambiance.
“You’re beautiful.”
I look across the table and find his eyes focused solely on me. “You’re smooth,” I tell him, glancing over at the sleeping child. “Milo taught you well.”
Chase grins that cocky little smile and places his napkin in his lap. “He said I was a tough student, but I think he did well in his teachings. You know, for 3:00 a.m.”
“I could have helped,” I tell him as the waiter fills our water glasses.
“You needed some sleep,” he replies, taking his menu and flipping it open.
“You do too. We’re a team, right?” I ask, not bothering with my menu yet.
He sets his down and reaches for my hands across the table. I place mine in his, reveling in the feel of his warm, calloused skin against mine. “We’re a team. But sometimes, a member of the team needs to sleep. You had the first feeding last night and were exhausted. Part of being on this team is recognizing that and making sure you’re taken care of too.” He strokes his finger along my knuckles, a shiver rippling through my body.
“I like that,” I tell him, swallowing hard. “A team.”
Pulling my hand upward, he places a kiss on my knuckles. “We’re a team, Gabby. You, me, and Milo.”
My eyes burn with unshed tears, and I have no idea why. I’m not usually this much of a crier, but for some reason, his sweet, sincere words strike right through me. Or specifically, right to my heart. “Thank you.”
He smiles once more, his eyes only for me. “You’re welcome, sweet Gabrielle. Now, let’s get this date moving. I have big plans for dessert later.”Chapter FourteenChase 14* * *“You were such a good boy,” Gabby praises Milo. We just got home from our date, and she’s right. He was the perfect angel all night.
“He takes after his daddy.” Daddy. The word still sounds foreign to me, but I don’t hate it. In fact, I’m starting to like it. I just pray that this little man really is mine. I’ve grown quite attached to him and I know Gabby has as well. I hate that Gabby isn’t his mom, but tonight something dawned on me. She is. In all the ways that matter, Gabby is his mother. She loves him, takes care of him, takes care of me.
She chuckles. “You’re handsome like your daddy,” she coos at him. She’s sitting on the couch, his carrier at her feet as she holds him in her arms. The sight has my heart restricting in my chest.
Making my way to where she sits, I crouch down to my knees and place my fingers under her chin, lifting her eyes from my son to me. “I love you.” Her eyes soften and she opens her mouth to say what I’m not sure, because I lean in and press my lips to hers. I never want her to feel obligated to say it back. However, I need her to know. I won’t ever stop telling her just like I’ll never stop loving her. Gabby is it for me.