Dream With Me (With Me Book 4) (8 page)

“Dirty,” I say. “Very dirty.”

Chloe just laughs more.

“Those looks were hot,” Taylor says. “Super hot. And that’s why you should go with flirty. Teasing. Maybe even something slightly innocent.”

“Slightly innocent.” I tap a finger to my chin, mulling it over. I do have a few dresses that are more on the flirty side. “I could do that new dress, the delicate white with lace-scalloped edges.”

“Try it on.”

I hurry back into my room and find the dress and shoes. The dress is a basic A-line shape with tank top straps and a black bow around the waist. The shoes, black peep-toes, have hot pink stiletto heels and soles. I love this outfit already and show it off.

“Love!” they both yell out.

“Now, what will you do with your hair?” Chloe asks.

“I’ll pull my hair back into a high ponytail, and I’ll make sure to keep my makeup simple.”

“Not too simple, though,” Taylor says.

“I’ll have a pop of color.” I glance at my nail polish and frown. “I have to redo these.”

“Like that’ll be a hardship for you,” Chloe says. “You make nail polishes. I’m sure you have something in your arsenal.”

“I totally do.” I have not made it a secret from anyone that my ultimate dream is to have my own makeup line one day. I make most of the stuff I wear—I started with nail polishes and name some of the colors after lines from books or book titles or other fun stuff. But a lot of them come from one of my favorite authors, Jane Austen. “I’ll use the shimmery brown,
A Pair of Fine Eyes
. Now, what about you two?”

“The blue wrap dress. Silver heels. And maybe you can do my nails in a fun way?” Chloe bats her lashes at me.

“You know I will. I’m thinking orange and teal.
Don’t Call Me Carrot
and
Fled is that Music
will be perfect,” I say.

“I know
Don’t Call Me Carrot
is from
Anne of Green Gables
. But what is
Fled is that Music
from?” Chloe asks.

“John Keats’
Ode to a Nightingale
. You have to read it, you plebe.” I duck and miss the pillow that Chloe tosses my way. “Taylor?”

“Black and white striped skirt and red tank. I’m good with my nails, though.”

“So, Taylor and I will head out a little before Griff arrives,” Chloe says. “I’ll text you to see where you’re at, and if we’re not already there, we’ll make our way.”

“Griff said he was one of the designated drivers,” I say. He texted me an hour ago to let me know about this. “Won’t he have his friends with him?”

“Doubtful. Either he’ll drop them off before he picks you up or they’ll get another ride or call a cab,” Taylor says.

Chloe nods her head. “The important thing is that he’s coming to get you, so I wouldn’t worry too much about anything else.”

“You’re right. This is supposed to be fun. Only fun and casual. The date might suck.”

“You’ll be able to get your drink on if the date goes into that territory,” Taylor says.

“And if it doesn’t . . . just text to let us know not to wait up for you.”

I laugh. “I was home before both of you last night, but I’ll let you know where I’m at.”

“Good. Now, get your stuff and make my nails pretty.”

I mock salute Chloe. “Yes, ma’am.”

At 8:51 p.m., my cell
phone rings and Griff’s name pops up on the screen.

I take a moment to take a sip of water so my voice doesn’t emerge as a squeak before answering it. “Hey.”

“Hey,” Griff says. “I just parked but I forgot to ask earlier, does your building have one of those buzzers to let people in?”

“It’s to the right. But you don’t have to use it. I’ll come down and meet you.”

“Evie.”

“Yeah?”

“This is a date. I’m going to ring your buzzer. And then I’m going to come up to your apartment and pick you up.”

My intercom buzzes seconds later, and I let him in. I take the time to give myself one final check. My cheeks are flushed and rosy, my eyes bright with excitement. I slick on some more pink, strawberry-flavored lip gloss and smooth my hands down my dress, then twist the silver knotted ring on my middle finger back and forth.

I’m nervous. I’m never nervous. I just have to get myself under control. It’s a date. I’ve dated before. This is familiar territory.

The doorbell rings, and my pulse jumps. I take another deep breath, then make myself slowly walk to the door and open it. As expected, Griff is there. But not at all expected . . .

He has flowers.

And not the kind of flowers a girl usually gets—they’re not roses or lilies or anything fancy.

They’re wildflowers. Untamed. Vivid colors. Bright purple, poppy-red, sunshine yellow, cobalt blue, vibrant pink, and neon orange. The colors should not go together—not in the slightest—but, for some odd reason, they do. Everything just fits. They’re beautiful. Breathtaking. Stunning.

And I haven’t said anything. I haven’t even greeted Griff.

But when I force my gaze away from the flowers to Griff’s eyes, I find that I
can’t
speak. He’s looking at me as if I’m this undiscovered wildflower.

Griff looks amazingly hot in dark jeans and a white T-shirt. We’re wearing the same color—white—and I bite back a smile at how we almost match again.

“You’re beautiful,” he says.

Not
you look beautiful
. But
you’re beautiful
. I have always been a confident woman—I know I’m beautiful, smart, and creative. But his words make me want to swoon.

“Can I come in?” he asks.

I nod and step back. I should say something. Break the ice. “You’re early.”

That’s
what I decide to say? I need to smack myself.

“Only by a few minutes,” Griff says, following me into the kitchen.

I reach for a vase and fill it with water, aware of Griff standing by the counter a few feet away. He’s still holding the flowers. I didn’t even take them from him. I blush furiously and reach for them.

“Thank you,” I say softly, “for the flowers.”

“You’re welcome.”

I find a vase in one of the cupboards and arrange the flowers in them. “And thank you for the compliment.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

I stop arranging the flowers to meet his dark gaze. My heart pounds fiercely when he rounds the corner and comes toward me.

“It’s a fact,” he says. “You’re beautiful, Evie.”

“Oh.” My face feels like it’s on fire, and I look away.

His hand cups my cheek, turning me back to meet him. “I really want to kiss you.”

“Okay.” I tilt my head up to oblige him, try to ignore my racing pulse. “Kiss me.”

“But . . .” His hand drops away, and he takes a step back. “I’m not going to.”

I’m not sure I heard him right. “You’re not?”

“This is a date. I’m not going to start off the date by kissing you. That happens at the end.”

“But we can start the date off on the right foot—or on the right kiss.”

“Evie—”

“Kiss me, Griff.”

“Here’s the problem with that.”

“I’m listening.”

“When I kiss you, I don’t want to stop.” His eyes dip to my mouth and darken. “I want to keep kissing you.”

“I don’t have any objections.”

He smiles at me, and I practically melt into the floor. I’ve never seen him really smile—a flash, a turn of lips—but he’s never let go. Until right now. I want to taste his smile, to feel his lips curve against me.

“But,” he says, “I’m going to remain firm on this.” And then he gently pushes me away, his gaze still heated. “No kissing until the date is over.”

“No kissing?”

“None. Not even a brush of lips.”

“You’re serious about this?”

“Very.”

“We’ll just see how long you can last on that one.”

“If you know anything about me, then you know that I can last a very, very long time.”

Oh boy. He definitely can.

But can Griff really resist all my attempts at kissing? I’m not so sure about that, but I’m going to have fun trying.

He holds his arm out to me. “Let’s get going.”

I eye his arm, then take it. “Let’s go.”

Griff waits for me to lock up, and then we walk down the stairs to his truck outside. I let him open my door for me again and wait for him to get in on the driver’s side.

“I didn’t say this before, but you’re hot,” I say. “I want to do way more than kiss you. And my panties? Imagine the tiniest scrap of fabric possible.”

He stops at a red light, and a muscle leaps in his jaw. “You’re not going to play fair, are you?”

“Are you?”

He leans in, his lips a whisper away from me—so close that my eyelids flutter closed and my breath shortens . . .

And he pulls away.

“Not at all,” he says. “You’ll get kissed, but not until the end.”

He really means it, but that doesn’t mean I can’t have some fun and tempt him to kiss me a lot sooner. Because I have plans to kiss him way before the date ends.

And I have no plans on stopping until very, very,
very
late in the night.

“So, where are we headed?” I ask.

“Church Street, right? That’s what everyone was talking about earlier. And it’s Jamie’s last night working at The Vermont Pub & Brewery, so I figured we’d go there. Eventually.”

“Eventually?”

We stop at a red light, and Griff glances at me. “We can go there sooner, but I was thinking about dinner. Unless you’re stuffed from the BBQ?”

“I can eat.” Another thought occurs to me. “Earlier, you said you were the designated driver . . .”

“I still am.” Griff starts driving again. “But Jamie’s not drinking, and Zelda doesn’t drink. And Jack said he’d help with rides, too.”

We crest down a small hill that leads downtown.

“What about you? Any siblings?”

“No brothers. Two sisters. Meredith is the oldest. She’s twenty-five.”

“That’s how old Jack is, too. Until his birthday in September.”

“Mer’s birthday is also in September. Hers is on the twentieth.”

“Jack’s on September first. So, it’s Meredith, you, and—”

“Vanessa is the youngest and just turned eighteen in April. Mine is on July seventh. When’s yours?”

“November eleventh.” Griff slows down to let a car pull out from a gas station. “Is Vanessa still in high school?”

“She’s a senior. Her prom is the same weekend of my graduation. My family won’t be here until graduation day.”

Griff glances over at me. “Are you okay with that?”

I nod, but think it’s sweet of him to ask and show concern about my feelings. “Of course. It’s only a dinner and a senior prom is a big thing. Even though I puzzle them at times, my family has my back.”

“Why do you puzzle them?”

“Oh. Well.” I nibble on my lower lip. Griff really does catch everything I say. “It’s nothing bad or anything. Mer and Vanessa are very logical thinkers. Mer’s a stockbroker and Vanessa is going into engineering. It’s not as if I’m bad at science; I actually like science and math. But I love reading more. I guess it just makes me the quintessential middle child. Mer always follows the rules; Vanessa breaks them. And me? I make my own.”

Griff smiles.

“But,” I emphasize, “just so you know, middle kids get the worst rap.”

“So do the babies in the family.”

I laugh. “Please. You babies are spoiled.”

“And you middle kids are supposedly attention hogs.”

“Me? An attention hog?” I snort. “Never.”

“You’re really not, though. An attention hog, I mean.”

“I do have a big personality, though,” I say. “I talk a lot, as you clearly know.”

“And I talk too little.” Griff pauses for a moment, then clears his throat. “It’s just . . . I’m not like that. I won’t ever be talkative. I’m not outgoing like you are.”

I’m not sure why I didn’t see this before or make the connection that Griff’s not talking was a sign of being shy. Mer’s the same way. Quiet and shy that sometimes comes across as aloofness.

“That’s okay. And trust me, you’ll be wishing in no time at all for me to shut up,” I say, trying to lighten the mood.

“Not at all. I like hearing you talk. I always do,” he says, pulling into an off-street parking lot where he finds an empty spot and pulls in. My brain freezes on one particular part of his sentence. He always liked hearing me talk? From the very beginning?

He kills the engine and gets out, hurrying over to my side. Griff opens the door and I step down. “Besides,” he says, “the more you talk, the more I don’t have to.”

I laugh. “Nice try. But now that I know that’s your plan of attack, I’m going to counter it. Prepare yourself. I’m going to ask questions over dinner. And drinks. And probably later on . . . if you get lucky, that is.”

“I’m only going to kiss you, Evie. At the end of the date. Nothing else.”

“So you’ve said. Many times, in fact.” I smile as he takes my hand in his much bigger one. “I don’t know who you’re trying to convince when you say that you’re
only
going to kiss me at the end and not a moment before—me or . . . yourself.”

“You can try to tempt me otherwise, but I’m very good at resisting.”

Challenge accepted.

‡

Since Griff parks at the
bottom of Church Street, we don’t immediately hit the marketplace. We pause at the walkway, and down past a Greek gyro shop, I see college-aged students going in and out of a dance club. The air is humid and there’s no breeze, but it’s not completely uncomfortable. After the long winter, any sort of warm weather is welcomed.