Page 43 of Daring Destiny
I glance at the mannequin and kick up my heel playfully. “Not my style, but it might be a nice change of pace for you from black t-shirts and jeans.”
“Burn.” He smirks, raising an eyebrow. “You just wait. The next time you see me, I’ll have fully embraced the retro Palm Springs granny vibe.”
I nudge him with my elbow. “I dare you. It’ll fit your personality perfectly.”
“Seriously. You’re freezing, let’s get you a sweater or something.” He leans down and kisses me and I realize how much I love his public displays of affection.
Whatever this is between us, it’s big. I know it in my bones. I can tell by the way he watches me when he thinks I’m not looking. And the way his eyes soften whenever I say something. We’ve moved way past friends or friends with benefits or whatever the hell we’ve been for the past several months.
I wonder if either of us will have the courage to address it.
Our banter continues as we weave in and out of the shops looking for something I like. Brennan picks up random clothing items, teasingly asking if I think they’d suit him—a sequined jacket here, a ridiculous sunhat there. Each time, I laugh and swat his hand away, but there’s an undercurrent to our interactions.
We’re biding time until we can fuck each other to oblivion again.
I lead him into a quaint little woman’s designer boutique to hopefully find something suitable. Immediately Brennan fingers the edge of a stunning custom-made oversized scarf. It’s one-of-a-kind piece—luxurious silk blended with cashmere. It drapes like liquid and doubles as a wrap.
“Try this.” He arranges the impossibly soft fabric around my shoulders and spins me around to the mirror. “It’s made for you.”
The cream and soft gold tones shimmer under the boutique’s lights. He fluffs it around my body and the material unfurls like a delicate cloud. The price tag catches my eye—$6,000—but before I can protest, Brennan’s already signaled the clerk and pulled out his card.
He has a way of making quiet, thoughtful gestures which leave me speechless.
Next, he stops in front of a small jewelry store. His eyes flick over the delicate rings as I pretend to study a pair of earrings, giving him a sideways glance. “You know, for someone who claims he’s not into shopping, you’re surprisingly invested.”
“It’s fun doing anything with you.” His fingers graze the small of my back as we step closer to the window.
My heart melts at the casual way he says it, like it’s the most natural thing in the world. Like we’ve always been this connected.
I don’t know why it feels like a revelation—maybe it’s because with Brennan, I’ve never felt like I had to be anyone but myself. We’ve gotten to know each other without any stupid performative dating routine. None of the sexual pretense so many men have expected from me in the past.
It’s refreshing, but also terrifying. What happens when Brennan finally steps into the man he’s meant to be? When he fully realizes how successful and brilliant he is. Will he still want me around? Or will I become someone he used to know? It’s happened before, so I know it’s a possibility.
I shake the thought from my head. My own damage has no place here. Today is easy. Fun. The way it should be when you’re falling head over heels.
Shit.
We stop for lunch at a small bistro tucked between two art galleries, with outdoor seating and mismatched furniture. Brennan pulls out my chair for me and sits to my right, his fingers caress my nape as we wait for menus.
“This place is perfect.” I glance around at the diners who look equally relaxed, some with their dogs lounging at their feet. “I like it here.”
Brennan looks around. “Yeah, it’s nice.”
“So, tell me.” I lean toward him. “What else is on our agenda for today? You’ve got the car, I’ve got a warm scarf—where are you taking me next, Mr. Tour Guide?”
He quirks a brow. “You trust me?”
“Do I have a choice?” The truth is, I like letting him take the lead. It gives him a boost to his confidence, which is returning after our talk—and a lot of orgasms. He’s visibly sure of himself, which is nice to see. “Besides, you’re full of excellent surprises.”
He takes a sip of his water. “I try not to disappoint.”
We settle into our usual rhythm, light conversation filled with banter flowing easily between us, only interrupted by the arrival of simple, hearty salads.
“You know,” he sets his fork down when he’s finished, “I actually think you’re the one full of surprises.”
I’m intrigued. “Oh? How so?”
“You shut down the idea of us as a couple after we first had sex.” He shrugs one shoulder like it’s no big deal, but there’s something behind his words, something profound. Once again, he’s in tune with my thoughts. “You let me off the hook, I guess… Over these past months, well, I didn’t expect…Us. I feel like we’ve been together all this time.”