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I stare at the man next to me, and I finally ask him something I’ve been dying to know. “Did you ever picture yourself getting married?”
He sighs, taking a bite of his pizza. “Can’t we eat in peace?”
I hate that I can’t see his eyes, so I grab his hat and place it over my head before I run my hand through his thick, unruly hair.
“I just want to know more about you,” I mutter. “I know you lost your dad young, your mom’s family has money, and you love science. That’s it.”
He says nothing, so I keep it light. “First time having sex?” I grin.
His eyes sparkle with a mischievous air. “Sixteen.”
“Tattoo or piercing?”
My breath catches in my throat when he leans forward, tipping his cap closer to my hairline, as he whispers over my cheekbone. “Nipple piercing.”
Then he kisses my cheek and I blush.
“Beer or wine?”
“Wine.” I make a face at his answer, to which he shrugs. “My mom’s a wine lover. It grew on me eventually.”
“Are you close with her?”
“I am.”
We finish our food in silence, the breeze brushing against my face.
“I miss her,” I say, referring to my mom. I’m hoping that by opening up he’ll do the same.
“What do you think she would’ve thought of me?” he asks, massaging my neck. The stress I’ve been putting on my mind lately, on my body, dissipates with every stroke. It could be his presence, the massage, or being near snow-covered trees, but I feel more at peace tonight.
“She would’ve loved you.”
He snickers.
“I’m serious.” I grab his other hand. My heart pumps blood at a rapid pace after he weaves his fingers through mine.
It’s the littlest thing.
The smallest things mean the most to us in the end, don’t they?
“She would’ve warned me about Harv, based off his looks. The whole bad-boy vibe with his obvious tat ... she might not have liked that.”
The emotion crossing his eyes is deep and so mesmerizing that I wish I could spend the rest of my life staring into them.
“And your dad?” he asks.
“He loves everyone. Doesn’t judge.”
“Even so, I’m hard to love, Gemma.”
I want to tell him he’s wrong, tell him he has no clue, absolutely no clue, how easy he is to love. Instead, I scoot closer to him, seeking body heat, wishing to heal whatever demons plague him.
I know he doesn’t keep much company, but I want to be one of those people he cherishes in life.
“Yesterday, you said you only want to fuck me. Does that mean you’re not fucking other women?”
The tiniest smirk appears, making me swoon over him even more. Like he’s channeling every aspect of my heart, trying to possess it, earn it, and declare it his.
