“It was best not to make a move.”
Rob nodded. “At the time, it was the only play I could make.”
“Or not make,” I murmured. “You never let on at all. I never guessed.”
“Yeah, well. I learned early on not to show people how they’re making me feel. Otherwise I’d always be the dumb kid crying in a corner.”
“You’re not like that with me anymore,” I realized aloud.
“I trust you,” he said softly.
I melted around a mouthful of fudge. At his gesture, I fed him another bite of the shared dessert, imagined what it would taste like on his lips. Hot, sweet, slightly bitter, sharp with salt, rich as sin. In the not-too-distant future, I might be kissing Robert Clayton Conrad. Back in the day, I wrote his full name on my notebooks a lot, always on the inside, where Nadia wouldn’t find it and tease me.
This should make him laugh, plus it would show I trusted him, too. “You know, I always thought you had a kingly name. I have a folder on my computer devoted to your fantasy adventures, like three hundred thousand words, all terrible.”
Finally, I’d succeeded in startling the ever imperturbable Rob. “What?”
“You heard me. In the world of Nebaskalan, your evil uncle stole your throne and left you for dead. But with the help of your talking horse, you swashed a lot of buckles, slew dragons, restored your kingdom to prosperity and won your lady love.”
“Did I now? Was her name Lauren by any chance?”
God, I’d let him read those god-awful fanfics if they’d make him smile like this. “Please. Laurenara, that’s completely different. She’s a gorgeous, irresistible sorceress with red hair and purple eyes who can turn people into mist, superhandy for breaking into castles occupied by villainous relations.”
“Seriously, I can’t rest until you’ve shown these to me. Do the stories have titles?”
“Book one is The Fallen Crown, book two is The Weeping Throne and book three is The Undying King.”
Grinning, I had no idea why he was looking at me like that, until he stood, rounded the table, drew me up out of my chair and kissed me. Sensation careened through me: the hardness of his chest pressed against mine and the roughness of his hand tangled in my hair. I tasted salt and chocolate, heat as promised, more in the hard demand of his mouth and the fleeting sweep of his tongue. I could’ve kissed him forever, except that the waiter almost knocked into us with a tray of plates.
“Maybe this isn’t the place,” I whispered, breathless. “What now?”
“You’ll see.”
CHAPTER NINE
The gravel parking lot was rough, and when I stumbled, Rob swept me into a princess carry. Startled, I wrapped my arms around his neck. “Are you serious? You’re completely showing off right now, aren’t you?”
“Maybe a little.” But he didn’t put me down until I was safely ensconced in the truck.
“Admit it, you do not lift everyone in and out. Your ride’s not even that tall.” I could get in unaided; it just wouldn’t be graceful.
“Just you,” he said, starting the engine and adjusting the heater.
“Why?”
“Because I needed an excuse to touch you. I didn’t think you’d suspect me of being anything but overprotective.”
He was right. In my wildest fantasies, I’d never daydreamed about Rob liking me back. For different reasons, we both had confidence issues. Buckling in, I indulged in a happy silent squee as Rob put the truck in Reverse and made a perfect three-point turn to get us facing the right direction. He didn’t say much on the drive to my house, which surprised me a little. Maybe he was already regretting the impulsive kiss?
“So—” I began, as he parked in my driveway.
“Was it okay?” he cut in.
“What?”
“Me kissing you. I guess I should’ve asked first, but you were just being so cute. You didn’t make up the whole thing about the stories, did you?”
Oh. Now I get it.
“Come in.”
This time, I didn’t wait for him to get me down; I just opened the door and hopped out. He followed me to the front door, waiting patiently while I shivered and fumbled with the key. A few seconds later, we stepped inside. Since it was late afternoon, my mom would be home in an hour or so, but for now, the house was empty. The front door led into the living room, cozily decorated with my mother’s various arts-and-crafts projects. She’d always enjoyed finding things at antique stories, kitschy character pieces that added color to the room. Consequently, our house was more shabby than chic since she didn’t have the knack of bringing old things back to life. If I spent enough time with Rob, though, I might change that.
“My room’s upstairs.” A prickle of excitement crept through me, ridiculous as it might be. I had no plans to sleep with him right then yet it was enticing to lead him to my bedroom.
“I remember.”
He’s been here before. He delivered and set up your bed.
But the kiss changed everything.
“Give me a minute.”
“No problem.” There was something off in his demeanor, a change I couldn’t put my finger on. I was better at reading him, but he didn’t come with a translation guide or a manual.
Sighing, I went into my small walk-in closet and changed into yoga pants and a sweatshirt. Thick socks completed my ensemble—not sexy, but perfect for working on the house. Assuming he still wants me there. I stepped out to find him perched at the edge of my bed, looking at a ballerina figurine my mom bought me when I was ten.
“All right, before I break out any volumes of Rob-homage, tell me what’s going on.”
“What makes you think anything is?”
“We had a fantastic time at lunch. Then you kissed me. After that, you shut down like Sharon at ten p.m. on a Tuesday night.”
“I’m not sure if I like you having the keys to the kingdom, so to speak.” But he was smiling a little, proof he didn’t mind too much. “I just...I timed it wrong, that’s all. It should’ve been special, and instead, we almost got hot soup dumped on our heads.”
Oh. “I can’t speak for other women, but I prefer being kissed because you want to so bad you can’t help it. All the orchestration and polish in the world can’t compensate for lack of passion. I’d be bummed if you could’ve stopped yourself. That’d mean you don’t want me as...” I trailed off, deciding not to reveal that much.