Page 78 of Against the Clock
“Is that right? Then I’ll have to steal it back or date you until you give it back.”
“Oh, is that the game here? This is a long con to get my hard-earned shirt back?”
He breaks, laughing hard. “I would be the worst con artist ever. I’m too in love with you already.”
The knife covered in raspberry jam clatters to my plate. My hand doesn’t seem to want to hold it anymore.
I stare at him.
His throat bobs. He pushes his dark, silver-flecked hair from his forehead, his gaze darting back and forth between my eyes.
“Sorry,” he says. “Forget I said anything.”
“Daniel,” I say his name slowly, trying to think past the pounding in my ears. “We just met, like a week ago. You can’t be in love with me. That’s not how that works.”
“You’re right. It was just a slip of the tongue. Don’t worry about it. Pass me the jam? I’m still hungry.”
Wordless, I do as he asks and we eat in silence.
Until I glance at my dress on the floor, then slap my hand against the kitchen tabletop.
“Shit.”
“What?”
“I only have my dress to wear today to go apple picking. And heels.” I scrunch my nose. “We’ll have to run back to my apartment for jeans and boots.” I give him a reproachful look. “And new underwear, since you’ve abducted mine.”
“Yes. They were abducted.”
“Stolen. Taken. Whatever.” I laugh at him, rolling my eyes, and he grins right back.
It’s just so easy with him. Everything is easy with him.
Because this is new. That’s why. It’s always easy at the start, before you know how to piss each other off and all the ways you can be hurt.
“I’ll just take you into town and we can get you some new things on the way.”
“Will I be wearing your bathrobe?”
“Good point.” His eyes narrow, and he gives me a once-over. “What size are you?”
“Huh?”
“You go shower and I’ll go get you a few things in your size. Then you can keep them here for when you stay over.”
“Don’t be silly. I have plenty of clothes at home—”
“And you have no clothes here, with me, at my home. And you’re my girlfriend now, which means you are going to be staying here more, right?”
I don’t know what to say to that. “I guess?”
“And I want to spoil you, so let this be one of the first times I spoil you. Text me your sizes, and I’ll get you a couple things for today.”
“What if I say no?”
“Then I’ll look at the size tag in your dress and do it anyway.”
His grin is infectious, and I have a feeling that despite the joking way he said it, he’s not kidding around, not at all.