Page 64 of 10 Signs You Need to Grovel

I press a soft kiss to her cheekbone, unsure why she’s holding back. We’ve already kissed once. She agreed to this date. Hopefully the fears she admitted at her home haven’t returned.

She tucks her purse close and eyes the busy street. “I had no idea there were food festivals nearby.” A family brushes by her. Instead of stepping into me, she steps away. “How’d you find out about it?”

I attempt telepathy to read her mind and figure out why she’s putting up walls and awkward small talk between us. When that doesn’t work, I fall back on my pre-WITSEC method of winning Sadie over. Shameless flirting. “I visited my pal Google and searched ‘romantic venues where I can feed my date food and lick her sticky fingers.’” I wink at her.

She stands rigid, fiddling with her purse. “I’m sure the search results were plentiful.”

“And alarming.” Sticky anything in a search is a downward spiral to degenerate sites, but I thought I planned a great date.

Going out in secret meant we couldn’t stay in Windfall. My temporary home of Ruby Grove was also out. We’d for sure run into Olivia, who’d then have new blackmail material, since I don’t care about the witness protection leverage any longer. So here we are. At a fun event to promote the local restaurants, in a random town about a forty-five minute drive for each of us. Distance that comes with bonuses. No one here knows us. My plan was to be all over Sadie all night. Unfortunately, she’s a wooden sculpture of herself.

“Is everything okay with Max? He said he liked his counselor, right?”

Her posture softens. “He’s good, Des. Better than good. And Samantha seems like a great fit for him.”

“Okay, good.” But we’re both saying good too much. Awkwardness that needs to end. “So, Sadie Sprite Jones. What should we try first?” I sound like I inhaled helium, suddenly nervous and twitchy. I’m not sure how to stop. “The tacos or falafel look good. Or do we skip dinner and go straight for those mini cupcakes with the ten inches of icing?”

Her face brightens for the first time. “They have cupcakes?”

Thank God for her sweet tooth. “Ten inches of icing it is.”

I lead the way, needing to get this night moving, Sadie relaxing. Me not sounding like an overenergized chipmunk. I did a quick tour of the vendors online and try to remember where the cupcakes are, but she touches my arm, stilling me. “We don’t have to have cupcakes. Something else is fine. They’ll have dairy in them.”

I love that she knows I can’t eat dairy. Details a girlfriend would know.

“Actually.” I move into her space and drop my voice. “They’re vegan. Perfect for me to lick off of you.”

She inhales sharply, her nostrils flaring wide. Instead of freezing up and creating space, she flexes her fingers in my arm. “You’re forward.”

“I know what I want.” The dairy-free cupcakes were the clincher when choosing this outing for our date. I knew Sadie would want those treats, and I maybe planned to accidentally smear some on her neck.

She blows out a breath, then gives me those gorgeous eyes. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“For acting weird.”

“Hey.” I brush the backs of my knuckles down her arm. “All I want is for you to be yourself around me. If that’s anxious or weird right now, I’ll take it.”

Her shoulders lower. “Why do you have to be so you?”

“So sensitive and thoughtful and handsome?” I shrug. “It’s a curse.”

She laughs and fits her hand in mine. “I particularly love your modesty.”

“Modesty is for suckers.”

A nearby busker strums for his audience, and Sadie sways slightly. “Can we start over? Pretend I didn’t dodge your kiss and put on the brakes the second I saw you.”

I want to ask why she put on those brakes, but we need to have a fun night out, and the busker switched tunes to a coffeehouse rendition of Dirty Dancing’s “She’s like the Wind.”

This is a sign. Divine interference, giving me the gift of obnoxiousness.

I stop abruptly and say loudly, “Sorry for the interruption, folks, but I always do the last dance of the season.”

Sadie murmurs, “Oh my God.” There’s genuine fear on her face.

“My kind of dancing,” I go on. Then I forget the rest of those infamous Dirty Dancing lines and shout, “Nobody puts Sadie in a corner.” I hold out my hand to her, grinning.