Page 31 of Wine & Dine

It’s better like this, I remind myself again as I follow him.

We spend the remainder of the day preparing food, sipping wine, and watching a combination of football and movies.

“What’s something you’d really like to do while you’re in California?”

“I don’t know,” I say honestly. I’ve seen several of the tourist hot spots, but I don’t know what’s left.

“Okay, forget California. How about in general? What’s something you’d like to do? Experience? Something you wouldn’t go for in Georgia but really want to try.”

I shrug, shaking my head.

“Come on,” he says, bumping my shoulder with his while we sit on his couch waiting for our dinner to cook. We sit close enough that our arms touch, and my skin prickles with desire. My fingers want to tiptoe over his forearm and trace the tattoo.

“I’d like to take dance lessons.”

He chuckles until he sees I’m serious. “What, like ballet? Tap?”

“Tango.”

His wine glass pauses halfway to his lips.

“I already know how to swing dance from my mom, but I always wanted to learn something…sexier.”

He bites his lip.

“You want to laugh again.”

“I don’t,” he says, his voice rising as he chokes on a chuckle.

“You do.” I snort, smacking him on the shoulder.

“No, really. That sounds cool. You should do it.”

I shake my head again. “I wouldn’t know how or where, but yeah…that’s something I’ve always wanted to learn.”

Garrett grows quiet after that, and we return to football until it’s time to eat. When dinner is almost ready, Garrett asks if we should change. “We could dress up,” he offers.

I suppose it would be nice, but this day has been so carefree that I don’t want to make things awkward by forcing us to be formal. I don’t want to feel like we’re on a date.

“I’m comfy, though,” I say, sticking out my lower lip to pout.

“Me too,” he says, his eyes catching mine as a smile spreads across his face.

Casual Thanksgiving it is, then, and we stuff ourselves.

“I can’t move,” Garrett says, slouching back on his couch after we finish eating. He’s propped his feet up on his coffee table and slouches into the cushions. I throw myself down next to him.

“I can’t breathe.” I laugh, a hand covering my stomach. I haven’t eaten this much in weeks, and I feel full, warm…and almost happy.

Garrett flips the channel on the television to land on another classic movie.

“An Affair to Remember. Another favorite,” I announce.

Garrett groans and rolls his eyes in a teasing manner. He’s indulged me all day with black and white movies between football games. Two minutes into the movie, when he tugs my arm and pats his thigh, I fall over to rest my head on his leg. Garrett’s hand comes to my back, and he begins stroking along my spine with his fingertips. I relax under his touch until his fingers fall from my back. A gentle snore sounds behind me, and I smile. I snuggle into him and continue watching the movie about a couple destined to be together but only after a catastrophe.

I’ve never had a man search for me like Cary Grant tries to find Debra Kerr. No man has chased me half as much as I’ve chased him, and I’m saddened by the thought. What’s happened to romance? Or is it only in the movies? As the movie nears its end, Garrett’s hand returns to my waist, and I sense his other hand scrubbing down his face.

“Nice nap?” I mutter. He doesn’t respond, so I roll my head on his thigh to look over my shoulder. His eyes remain closed, but I feel something at the back of my head. Slowly, I continue my rolling to face him and then press myself upward.