I swallow hard and offer her the rose. I didn’t expect to be nervous, but here I am. “For you.”
Her lips part as she takes it, then she blinks up at me. “Like prom night,” she says softly, and warmth floods my chest. She remembers.
“Ready?” I ask, gesturing toward the car.
Her eyes widen and she lets out a long, low whistle. “Trying to impress me, Marston?”
I grin as I follow her gaze toward my Porsche 911 Cabriolet. “I got sick of the rental. I’d had my eye on these for a while, and there happened to be one available nearby.”
“She’s gorgeous,” Brin says, but she’s looking at me again. She’s having as much trouble not staring as I am. Good.
I turn to the car and rush to open her door before she can get there.
She laughs as she climbs in. “Such a gentleman.”
“You don’t mind a bit of a drive, do you?” I ask when I settle behind the wheel.
“Where are you taking me?”
I start the engine. “If you have time, I thought I’d take you into the city.”
“Atlanta?” she asks, eyes wide.
“A business acquaintance of mine just opened a new restaurant there. A farm-to-table place. He said their soft-shell crab is excellent, so I thought we’d check it out.” I cut my eyes to her. “If that’s okay with you.”
She seems to think it over, then shrugs. “I have nowhere to be. Why not?”
“You won’t regret it,” I say. I back out of the driveway and navigate my way to the main road. I’ve only driven to Atlanta a few times since returning to the OV, but it shouldn’t be bad this time of day. Though it takes me more than an hour on a weekday morning, it should take us less than forty-five minutes tonight.
Brinley leans forward and flips between stations on the satellite radio until she lands on a modern rock station. She keeps the volume low enough that it’s just background noise. “I don’t go to Atlanta much,” she admits. “Roman lives in the northern suburbs, so even when I take Cami or pick her up, I never bother going all the way into the city. We make time for a trip to the aquarium once a year or so, but that’s about it. Though I can’t deny it’d be easier for Cami if her dad and I lived closer—she spends too much time in the car getting back and forth between us.”
“I’ve learned to appreciate my driving time. Especially when it’s a beautiful night like this,” I say, taking my eyes off the road for a beat to look at her. “Want me to put the top down?”
Her eyes light up but she bites her bottom lip. “My hair will be a disaster by the time we get there.”
“Does that bother you?”
She shakes her head. “Not really, but I don’t want to embarrass you.”
I want to kiss her. I want to drag her over to me and kiss that idea out of her head. “You couldn’t embarrass me.” And I’m sorry your parents taught you to always worry about that.
But I push that aggravation aside, lower the top, and revel in the joy on Brinley’s face as she rides with the wind in her hair.
* * *
Brinley swirls the wine in her glass and tips her head to the side, studying me.
“What’s that look about?” I ask.
Her smile says it’s about something very specific, but she says, “What look?”
I prop my forearms on the table and lean forward, happily satisfied after a relaxing drive and a delicious meal. “Out with it. We’re on a date. Ask me anything.”
She takes a long pull of her wine, as if gathering her strength. “Okay. I keep thinking how strange it is that you don’t have someone back home.” She chews on her bottom lip for a beat. “But you admitted in Vegas that you’ve had relationships.”
I nod and laugh softly. “I have.”
“Tell me about them?” She wrinkles her nose. “I promise not to go all jealous girlfriend on you. I’m just curious about your life.”
“Okay.” I lean back, trying to figure out how to condense a decade of romantic relationships. Do I start with college and move forward, or do I start with the most recent and work my way back? “I’ve been with several women, casually, I mean, but only with a couple of them have I had anything I’d qualify as a relationship.”
“So mostly random hookups, or . . .?”
I shake my head. “No. I mean, a few in college, I guess, but I’ve never gotten much of a thrill out of sleeping with women I don’t know on some deeper level. Even if that deeper level is just friendship, I needed more than sex for it to be worth it to me.”
“Isn’t that what I’m supposed to say?” she asks. “I mean, if we’re going to be stereotypical about gender roles here?”