Page 68 of Stay with Me

A grin flashed across his face. “A date. You and me. Sunday night. Not at the Waffle House.”

My ears were deceiving me. There was no way he was saying what I thought he was.

“There’s this new steak house in town. Only been open a year or two, but everyone loves it,” he continued as he watched me. “I can pick you up at six.”

“You ... you are seriously asking me out on a date?”

“I seriously am.”

Two things were happening inside me. One was the rush of warmth that was whipping everywhere, lighting me up from the inside. The other was icy disbelief. I didn’t understand why he was asking me out, unless it was some kind of weird, pity date.

My stomach tumbled.

Oh my God, it was a weird, pity date.

“No,” I said, pulling my arm. He didn’t let go, but I also wasn’t going to be a part of this. “I’m not going on a date with you.”

His hand slipped off mine and slid to my wrist. “I think you are.”

“No. I’m not.”

“You’ll like their steaks,” he continued as if I hadn’t spoken. “They have a great filet.”

“I don’t like steaks,” I lied. I loved red meat, all kinds of red meat. I was a meat girl, meat and more meat.

He arched a brow as his thumb smoothed over the inside of my wrist. “Please tell me you like steaks. I don’t know if we can be friends if you say you don’t.”

I almost laughed, because that was ridiculous. “I like steaks, but—”

“Perfect,” he murmured, tipping his head back. “Did you bring any dresses with you? I’d like to see you in a dress.”

I did bring summer dresses and the appropriate shrugs with me to hide the scars, but that was beside the point. “Why do you even want to go out with me?”

“Because I like you.”

My heart jumped in my chest, and if it had hands, it would have been clapping happily. “You can’t like me.”

“I’ve already told you that I want to fuck you. You can’t forget that.”

Holy crap. “I kind of blocked that out.”

He laughed deeply, clearly amused. “You can’t be surprised that I like you.”

“Fucking and liking are two different things.”

“Yes. And no.” His eyes locked with mine. “Are you saying no because you don’t think you’re pretty?”

Holy crap on a Conquistador.

“I know.”

I tried to pull back this time, digging in my feet, but his arm curled, keeping me in place. Panic dug acid-tipped claws into my skin. My chest rose with a deep breath and I forced my eyes to narrow, giving him the most bitchtastic look I could come up with, anything to take attention off how he’d hit my rejection right on the head.

“I know,” he said again, tugging me forward as he spread his legs. I ended up between the V of his thighs. Close, too close to him.

I didn’t understand that statement, so I continued staring at him with my bitchy glare. “Let me go.”

One arm slid around my back and he kept moving his thumb up the inside of my arm. The touch, his closeness, all of it was doing strange things to my body. My knees were going weak while every muscle was tensing. “I already knew about the pageants,” he said, keeping his gaze on mine. “Before you showed me the picture and the trophy last night, I already knew.”