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“I wish you’d stop calling me that.” Except, I love the way the words roll off his tongue and how his eyes simmer when he says them.
“I could call you pumpkin?”
“Pumpkin!” I turn to face him. “You’re not serious?”
“Well, if I have to pick something else, that’s what I’m going with.”
“How about Abby? It is my name.”
His head tilts to the side, and he pulls at his chin. “Everyone else will be calling you that. I want something that’s all mine.” He shrugs. “Your pick, pumpkin or city girl?”
“I’m not a pumpkin.”
“I agree. You taste sweeter than a pumpkin.”
“You haven’t answered my question.” I turn away, not wanting him to see me blush.
“About where we’re going?”
“Yes.”
“Because I’m planning on surprising you.”
Well, it isn’t going to be much of a surprise. There are really only two places to eat and a handful of bars.
He won’t take me to Bar 21. It caters to a seedier crowd, which leaves Top Bar as the only other option. The only one I know that has music and anything resembling a dance floor is Top Bar.
My father took me there a few times after work when he wanted to relax with a beer. First, he would grab me a shake at Eddie’s. Then I spent the afternoon reading or coloring, sipping my milkshake, while he talked with the men.
“There aren’t that many places to go.”
“How much do you trust me?”
That answer is way more complicated than it should be.
We reach his truck and, when he opens the passenger door, a length of black silk drapes across the seat.
“What’s that for?” I claim to be open-minded, but when it comes to kinky sex games, I’m as vanilla as they come. Not to mention we barely know each other.
He laughs as I back away, but he stops me with the brace of his arm.
Reaching over my shoulder, he grabs the silky fabric. “It’s a blindfold, silly.” He gives another of his knee-knocking winks. “Let’s get beyond the first kiss or two before we spice things up by tying you up.”
My mouth gapes and heat rises to my cheeks. “That’s not what I meant.”
“Oh, if you could see the color of your cheeks. Hell, instead of pumpkin, I should’ve gone with sugar beet. Now those are sweet and beet red.”
I punch him playfully in the arm and shake out my fist. “Ow!”
“Hey, don’t be hollering at me. You punched me.” Drake laughs. “I’m not planning on tying you up. It’s just a blindfold. I have something special planned, and I don’t want to spoil it.”
I slow my breathing and blush again. This time for letting his teasing get under my skin.
“Promise you’ll stop making fun of me?”
“Sorry, but I can’t make a promise I know I won’t keep.” He lifts the silky fabric. “Now, do you trust me enough to play along?”
Trust shouldn’t be such a complicated thing, but I hesitate. The look on his face is what finally has me saying yes. There’s no malice in his expression. Instead, a desperate hope hungers in his gaze.
