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Cam leaned back. “I wasn’t going to say that, but I’m glad you’re starting to realize my awesomeness.”
“Then what were you going to say?”
“That I said that because it’s true and I want to.”
“Why me?” I blurted out, and then closed my eyes briefly. “Okay. Don’t answer that.”
The food arrived just then—thank God—and the conversation was deterred… for about two minutes. “I’m going to answer that question,” Cam said, peering at me through his lashes.
I wanted to face-plant my stuffed chicken. “You don’t have to.”
“No, I think I do.”
Clenching my silverware, I drew in a deep breath. “I know it’s a stupid question to ask, but you’re gorgeous, Cam. You’re nice and you’re funny. You’re smart. I’ve been turning you down for two months. You could go out with anyone, but you’re here with me.”
“Yes, I am.”
“With the girl who’s never been out on a date before,” I added, looking him dead on. “It just doesn’t seem real.”
“Okay.” He cut off a piece of steak. “I’m here with you because I want to be—because I like you. Ah—let me finish. I’ve already told you. You’re different—in a good way so get that look off your face.”
My eyes narrowed.
He grinned. “And I’ll admit, some of the times I asked you out, I knew you weren’t going to say yes. And maybe while I wasn’t always being serious when I did, I was always serious about wanting to take you out. You get that?”
Um, not really, but I nodded.
“And I like hanging out with you.” He popped a piece of steak into his mouth. “And hey, I think I’m a pretty damn good catch for your first date.”
“Oh my God.” I laughed. “I can’t believe you just said you were a good catch.”
He shrugged one shoulder. “I am. Now eat your chicken before I do.”
Smiling, I started to pick it apart, going for the stuffed part first. With the exception of asking a stupid question, my first date was going well. Cam started steering the questions and I wasn’t a mute just sitting here. Though, every so often, our gazes would lock and I’d forget what I was doing or completely lose track of what he was saying. But I was having a good time—I was enjoying myself and Cam. And the best part? I wasn’t thinking beyond right now. I was just… here and it was a nice place to be.
Toward the end of dinner, Cam asked, “So, what are you doing for Thanksgiving? Going back home to Texas?”
I snorted. “No.”
His brows knitted. “You’re not going home?”
Finishing off my chicken, I shook my head. “I’m staying here. Are you going home?”
“I’m going home, not sure exactly when.” He picked up his glass. “You’re seriously not going home at all? It’s more than a week—nine days. You have time.”
“My parents… are traveling, so I’m staying here.” That wasn’t a huge lie. Around this time of year, between Thanksgiving and Christmas, my parents took cruises or went on ski trips. “Do your parents do the big Thanksgiving dinner?”
“Yeah,” he murmured, his gaze falling to his empty plate.
Conversation lulled a little at that point and as the check arrived, Cam didn’t seem like he wanted to linger. The night air was beyond chilly and our breaths formed puffy, misty white clouds. A fierce wind kicked up, picking up my hair and throwing it around my face. I shivered and hunkered down in my jacket.
“Cold?”
“It’s not Texas,” I admitted.
Cam chuckled and stepped closer, dropping his arm over my shoulders. His body warmth immediately slipped over mine and I worked hard at not tensing and falling flat on my ass. “Better?” he asked.
All I could do was nod.
