by Ellis, Aven
“Get used to that,” Courtney says, smiling at me. “I need to get a shirt explaining what a mini pig is. Or maybe you should. I bet Brooks would like it.”
A hot flush creeps up my neck the second she says Brooks.
“Sooo,” Courtney says, “while we’ll discuss your TV opportunity in a bit, I’ve been patiently waiting for you to spill all the details about your date last night. Don’t make me beg!”
I watch as Mr. Not Bacon sniffs the edge of the grass as we move down the sidewalk.
“Do you really? I mean, I get all gooey describing stuff like this, as my sister points out.”
“What’s wrong with your sister? Gooey love stories are the best!”
“It’s a date. Not a love story.”
We turn the corner to another row of glorious Seattle homes with richly landscaped yards.
“Every love story has a beginning,” Courtney challenges. “And the gooier the better. Now talk.”
Happiness fills me. Courtney embraces me the way I am, and I adore her for it.
And maybe Brooks can embrace me the same way if things progress, I think hopefully.
So I start talking, telling Courtney about everything—from having drinks to going back to his place to meeting his animals. I describe dinner, which makes Courtney laugh, and, of course, I tell her about our first kiss and our second date tonight.
“Ahhh, this is so amazing!” Courtney declares as we head over another block. “It’s a total love story!”
“No, it’s only a date.”
“Wove story,” Jacob repeats.
“See? Jacob knows a love story when he hears it.”
Then Madison throws her sippy cup on the sidewalk, bringing the traveling zoo to a stop.
“See? Madison knows it is a date,” I say. “It could all go horribly wrong tonight.”
Courtney goes to retrieve the cup and gives me an I know better than that look.
“I think we both know that’s not going to happen,” she declares.
“It could.”
“Hmmm.”
“Hmmm?” I ask.
“Well, you’re right. I suppose it could,” Courtney declares, taking a moment to stuff Madison’s cup in the back tote of the stroller.
I frown. Hmmm. I liked it better when Courtney was the eternal optimist regarding my love life.
“But it won’t,” Courtney says, flashing me a wicked grin. “Don’t worry. The exotic vet finds you as fascinating as animal science.”
“Um, thanks, I think?” I laugh.
“Yes, it’s good! From what you say, Brooks has buried himself in work since the failed relationship. For him to ask you out once, let alone twice, tells me he’s very interested in you.”
“I hope so, Courtney,” I say softly. “Because I’ve never met anyone like Brooks. I like him.”
Courtney smiles gently at me. “I know you do. But the good thing is, I think Brooks likes you the same way. Do you want my advice? Please say yes.”
I laugh. “Yes.”
“Don’t analyze. Not Brooks. Not his interest level. Not the odds of where this will go and how it will end. And most of all, don’t analyze yourself. This man—this amazing, sexy, smart, funny, animal-loving man—wants to be with you. And that’s all you need to know.”
As we go along, I know Courtney is right. I need to put my self-analyzing self aside and enjoy a night out with Brooks.
Which is exactly what I intend to do tonight.
CHAPTER 13
Today’s plan to improve myself item: I have a dinner date with Brooks tonight. A real adult date. Dinner. Wine. He said to dress casually this evening, but I’m still going to wear a Kate-inspired dress and heels. Our coffee/full English date was casual. Now is the time to step it up a notch, and improve my adult dating game.
Result: I really should have listened to Brooks on the casual part.
***
“Are you sure you don’t want to change your mind? You’re so beautiful tonight, and I don’t want you to mess up your dress. Bloody hell, what was I thinking, taking you here for a first dinner date?”
I gaze up at Brooks, his handsome face one of worry. We’re standing outside the famous Seattle seafood restaurant, The Crab Pot, down on Pier 57. The restaurant is famous for dumping out seafood on your table and you whack everything open with mallets.
And while Brooks is dressed nicely—and appropriately—in a blue, plaid, long-sleeved shirt and jeans, let’s just say my white sheath dress, oversized deep green statement necklace, and taupe heels aren’t exactly the perfect outfit for eating corn on the cob and cracking crab.
Oh, shit. Corn on the cob. I can’t eat corn on the cob in front of Brooks! What if it gets stuck in my teeth? Or I get my lipstick smeared on my chin, like I always do when I eat sandwiches? Brooks will think he’s on a date with a toddler, that’s what!
“Payton, I’m sorry. I messed this up. If you want to cancel I understand.”
I blink out of my smeared lipstick nightmare. “Cancel?” I repeat, confused.
Brooks reaches up and rubs his hand across the back of his neck. “I should have thought this out better. I was thinking it would be fun, but I realize now I’m an idiot. You’re a gorgeous woman. Of course you want to get dressed up and go out and this probably isn’t wh—”
I instinctively put my fingertips over his full lips to stop him from speaking, and he blinks in surprise.
“I’m happy to be with you,” I say, removing my fingers. “And I should have gone casual when you told me to. But if you want to smash crab shells to bits for dinner, I’m more than game for it.”
A strong breeze off the water comes up and sweeps across us, and my hair blows across my face. Brooks reaches up and gently brushes it back, looping his fingers through my curls, and my skin instantly gets goosebumps from his touch.
“You’re sure?” he asks, combing his fingers through my hair.
“Yes. It’ll be fun.”
“You’re not just saying that.”
I laugh. “No, I’m not. But can we eat now? I’m starving. And I’m happy to eat here as long as I don’t have to eat corn.”
Brooks furrows his brow. “Are you allergic?”
“No.”
“You don’t like it?”
“No, I like corn.”
“Is it not on your eating plan, if you have an eating plan?”
“Are you implying I need an eating plan?”
“No!” Brooks says, a mortified expression passing over his face. “I mean, your body is amazing, you don’t need an eating plan.”
Oh, I adore him.
“You think my body is amazing?” I say, grinning at him.
“God,” Brooks says, his hand reaching up toward the back of his neck. “I shouldn’t be allowed to date. Have I completely ruined my odds with you?”
“Odds of what? Continuing this date or odds of serving up the full English later tonight?” I tease.
If his skin weren’t so olive, I have a feeling it would be as red as Sylvia’s cherry cabinets right now.
“I’m a proper gentleman. Odds of continuing this date.”
Then he takes my hand and sweetly brushes his lips against it, and the feels run through me in full force at his romantic gesture.
“The odds are completely in your favor,” I say.
“All right. Good. So now will you tell me why you won’t eat corn?”
I laugh. “I don’t want it to get stuck in my teeth.”
Now Brooks is grinning at me as he links his hand through mine.
“Will something terrible happen if corn gets stuck in your teeth?” he asks as we head toward the restaurant.
“Yes. You’ll be appalled. You’ll wish you were with a polished woman who is capable of eating without making a mess.”
“Now this I have to see,” he declares. “You have to eat it now.”
“What? Noooo!” I cry, laughing.
“What? Yes,” he responds. “I find corn
in the teeth to be incredibly sexy.”
My face burns in embarrassment. Good Lord, why did I even go here with him? What is it about Brooks that makes me so . . . open? It’s like every piece of dating advice I’ve ever consumed is now stored in a locked up part of my brain, and I don’t have the key to get it out whenever Brooks is around.
“You do not find that sexy,” I counter.
“I do.”
“Liar. But no. I’ll whack crabs with a mallet but I will not eat corn in front of you.”
Or sandwiches.
“Never?”
“No.”
Brooks opens the door for me to go in first, and I do. But as soon as we’re inside the building the restaurant is in, Brooks slides his arms around my waist and draws me into his chest, stopping me before we reach the host stand to The Crab Pot.
I’m pressed up against him, his arms locked around my waist, and he bends down to speak into my ear. I can smell his cologne and my nerves jump excitedly in response.
“Thank you for agreeing to this tonight,” Brooks murmurs sexily in my ear. “I promise I’ll take you somewhere posh next time.”
My heart sings at the words, “next time.”
I wrap my hands over his as he sexily nuzzles my neck, and suddenly, I remember advice to be flirty on a date.
“If there is a next time,” I tease.
Brooks laughs turns me around, drawing me into his arms. “Oh, is that right?”
I nod. “Yes. Something could go terribly wrong during the crab cracking process. I need to keep my options open.”
“Don’t worry. If I can operate on an iguana, I can crack a crab,” he says, grinning. Then he cocks an eyebrow at me. “And I’m spectacular at eating corn on the cob.”
Oh, I adore his humor.
And him.
We head to the host stand and are seated at a table for two inside. The restaurant is big, and all the tables are decked out in red and white checked tablecloths. We are led to a table next to a huge window that overlooks the patio seating and the water. And to my delight, Brooks pulls out my chair for me, and I happily take my seat.
“Thank you,” I say.
“You’re welcome,” Brooks says, taking the seat across from me.
As soon as the hostess leaves, I study all the different seafood feasts listed on the plastic-coated menu.
“Which one do you like?” I ask, studying the differences between all the options. “I love Dungeness crab. Oh, have you ever had Dungeness crab pasta? It’s insane, it’s so good. My mom makes that every Christmas Eve.”
I glance up and to my surprise, find Brooks studying me, his beautiful brown eyes shining brightly.
“Um . . . what?” I ask, self-consciously. Oh, crap. Did a hair blow into my lipstick and has now smeared it onto my cheek? I instinctively touch my face, wondering where my Urban Decay has spread.
“You’re so beautiful,” Brooks says softly. “And you’re dressed up and so stunning, and yet you’re still willing to smash crabs with mallets tonight and eat off the table with me. I feel very lucky tonight, Payton.”
I feel my breath catch in my throat. I’ve always been called cute. I’m cute, I’m bubbly, or I’m funny.
Those are things guys say to me.
But this gorgeous doctor sitting across from me thinks I’m stunning.
“Thank you,” I say, blushing happily from his compliment. “And I think I’m pretty lucky myself tonight.”
Brooks flashes me a smile, one that makes me melt, and we go back to perusing the menu. We decide to get the Pacific Clambake, with Dungeness crab, clams, oysters, shrimp, and mussels, among other things.
Including the dreaded corn-on-the cob.
After placing our order, our server returns with two glasses of water. I reach for mine and take a sip, and Brooks does the same.
“So the big TV interview is Monday?” Brooks asks as he places his water back on the checkered tablecloth.
We had been texting a bit about it today, and finally a reporter had called me about coming out on Monday to shoot me, Courtney, the kids and of course, Mr. Not Bacon. I cleared it with the concierge company, and they were delighted with the exposure, so everything is now a go for it.
“Yes,” I say, tracing my finger down the edge of the glass, drawing a line in the condensation. I glance up at Brooks. “I’m so nervous. I’ve never been on TV before.”
“You’ll be brilliant,” Brooks assures me. “And this is a fantastic opportunity to promote your brand.”
I draw a breath of air. “I know. I feel pressure because of that, you know? Let’s face it, Mr. Not Bacon is the draw, so I have to drop in this fact without being obvious I’m dropping in this fact and ugh! It makes my stomach hurt thinking about it.”
“Payton, don’t. You’re a natural for TV.”
I furrow my brow. “What?”
“You’re fun. Engaging. Never at a loss for words,” Brooks says, slowly cocking his eyebrow up at me in a teasing way that makes me laugh.
“Are you saying I talk too much?” I ask with a grin.
“No, not at all. But the fact that you are comfortable with people will make the reporter’s job a lot easier.”
I nod. Brooks then reaches for my hand across the table, giving it a squeeze.
“You are going to shine,” he assures me. “Like you always do.”
Oooh!
The server returns with all the equipment we will need for dinner tonight, setting down wooden boards, mallets, a silver bowl for the shells, and oh crap, I totally didn’t think about this part—bibs.
I’m going to wear a plastic bib that says “The Famous Seafeasts” and has a cartoon couple cracking crabs on it.
I’m on a date with gorgeous, sexy, brilliant Brooks and I’m going to wear a bib.
Gah, he might as well be on a date with Jacob.
“Yes,” Brooks declares, oblivious to my anxiety as he picks up his mallet. “I love that we get to roll our sleeves up and get messy.”
Oy.
“Maybe I don’t need the bib,” I say aloud.
“What?”
Crap! I didn’t mean to vocalize that!
I quickly take another sip of water. “Um, well, you know, I’m a pretty clean eater.”
Brooks furrows his brow. “Nobody is clean when it comes to whacking crabs. And you’re wearing white.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “I was really hoping my green statement necklace would be my key accessory tonight.”
Brooks grins at me. “I love how you worry so much about everything not being perfect.”
“It drives most people crazy,” I admit. “Sometimes I drive myself crazy, so why shouldn’t it annoy everyone else?”
“It doesn’t annoy me.”
I lift my eyes to meet his, and see nothing but affection burning into those gorgeous eyes.
“It doesn’t?”
“No. I don’t agree with it, of course, but I understand now where the wiring for your mindset came from - your sister and parents. But you’re proving to be up for the challenge of not being perfect at all times. Like coming here with me.”
THE FEELS.
“So, bib on?” Brooks asks. “I’m confident it will be brilliant with your necklace.”
And suddenly I realize Brooks is good for me in this sense. He’s the only person who has made me feel brave enough to be less than perfect. To make a move that isn’t necessarily textbook stylish or the appropriate thing to do.
This British vet has entered my life and pushed me right out of my comfort zone.
And much to my surprise, I find myself liking it.
“Bib on,” I say, picking up my bib and fastening it around my neck. Brooks laughs and does the same, and as he grins back at me, I know I’m in the right place.
With the right man.
And I’m going to happily wear a plastic bib and smash crabs and see where this unpredictable, out of my perfect mindset night will go.
CHAPTER 14
<
br /> *Mental Note* Today’s plan to improve myself item, result: The dress has proven to be quite a successful choice, as I’ve eaten seafood, and bread, and I’m pretty sure I’d be dying if I had my jeans on right now. Or I’d be desperate to see if my top covered my jeans so I could leave the top button unbuttoned before I spontaneously exploded.
***
“That was so much fun!” I declare happily.
Brooks grins as we stroll hand-in-hand down the pier. We’ve just finished dinner at The Crab Pot, and I swear my dress feels tighter around my stomach, as I ate so much.
Mussels. Crab. Shrimp.
And I even ate corn.
Okay, so it was a dare from Brooks, and I did get lipstick on my chin. But when Brooks reached across the table and wiped it away with the swipe of his thumb, I decided lipstick on the chin is sexy.
Very sexy.
“I need joggers,” Brooks says, laughing. Then he must see the confusion on my face. “Sweatpants.”
I grin. I love that he says what he thinks.
“Yes,” I agree. “And a T-shirt.”
“Shall we get coffee and tea now?” Brooks asks, stopping so we can look out over the water. “It’s kind of our thing, you know.”
Our thing.
Brooks just said our thing.
My heart flutters happily inside my chest.
“Yes, I’d love a green tea,” I say happily.
Brooks slides his arms around my waist and draws me closer to him, and the breeze from the water blows across us.
“You’re a master crab cracker, Payton,” Brooks says sexily. “Very impressive skills. I don’t know if I should be in awe or deathly afraid of your brute use of force.”
I slide my hands around his back, feeling his muscles underneath the soft fabric of his shirt.
“So you forgive me for that shell that hit your chin?” I ask, laughing.
Brooks grins. “I do.”
He reaches up and touches my hair, running his fingers through it and sending shivers down my spine.
“I’d really like to kiss you right now but I’m sure I taste like a crab boil.”
I burst out laughing. “You do know how to turn a lady on.”
