“This is perfect,” I told him, so relieved to see food I wanted to leap from the truck.
“You’re pretty cool, Ainsley, you know that? Not what I expected.”
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, don’t take this the wrong way, but when I first met you, I never expected you to be the kind of girl who’d be down for sweats and a drive-through meal as a first date… That level of chill is nice, ya know?”
“I thought this wasn’t a date?”
He shrugged one shoulder. “Maybe I’ll get you to reconsider.”
I looked away, hiding the embarrassing way I was enjoying his attention. This hair dye was getting to my head, rewiring my mental responses. Something. This was not like me.
Once we had our food, he parked in a parking garage near the river front and we crossed the street, walking down the concrete steps to find a spot on the grass. The area was mostly quiet, except for a man playing guitar for a small crowd and a group of older women sitting idly reading the same book.
“So what do you think of Nashville?” I asked, running my hands over my knees to ease the chill in the air.
“I’m…still deciding.”
“Oh, yeah?”
“It’s warmer than I would like and I’m not crazy about your roads, but no state tax is cool and…the company isn’t bad either.” He nudged me playfully.
“The heat will be gone soon, but I-24 potholes are here to stay, I’m afraid.”
He laughed. “I think they’re going to have to start renting them out. What is the deal with that?”
I stared at him for a moment too long.
“What?” he asked.
“You’re just…different than I imagined.”
“You stole my line.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’m serious.”
“What did you think I was like?”
“Well”—I licked a bit of ketchup from my finger, placing my burger down—“when I first met you, I thought you were young and cocky and trying to hit on my preteen daughter.”
He nearly choked, speaking with his mouth full. “What?”
“And then, I thought you must be some gold digger after my mother’s money.” I giggled when his eyes grew even wider.
“Man, I have got to work on my first impressions,” he said, swiping the back of his hand across his forehead.
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, it had everything to do with my own issues and nothing to do with you. You’ve been incredibly kind to me. And my mother. So…thank you for that.”
“Oh, it’s no big deal,” he said, waving me off. “I haven’t really done anything.”
“You have. You fixed my flat tire and my mother’s fence, and you delivered my things today. Plus you got me out of the hotel tonight.”
“Well, yeah, but that was for my own selfish reasons.” He winked.
“Selfish or not, it was what I needed, so thank you.”
He nodded, taking another bite of his burger, then putting on his best Southern accent, he said, “I’m glad to be of service, ma’am.”
“Oh, god.” I covered my nose. “Leave that accent to the experts, and please don’t call me ma’am.”
“You just accused me of being a pedophile and a sugar baby all in one sentence. I think you deserve it,” he said playfully.
“Fair enough.” I lay back on the grass, staring up at the sky with a loud puff of air.
After a few moments, he lay down next to me. “For the record, I did offer to help your mom both of those times because I was hoping for a chance to see you again, so you aren’t wrong about me having romantic intentions. You were just assuming I was after the wrong girl.”
I turned my head slightly to look at him. “Romantic intentions, hm?”
“We’re lying in the grass looking at the stars,” he said with a chuckle, then jutted his chin toward the guitar player down the hill from us. “There’s even music playing. I think we’re putting Ryan and Sandra to shame.”
Warmth spread through my stomach and out to my extremities, my breathing growing shallow.
“It’s killing me not to kiss you right now,” he whispered, a wistful smile growing on his lips.
I couldn’t bring myself to say anything, for fear whatever I said might be an encouragement for him to do so. I couldn’t trust myself. What was I doing? Why was I here? What was I thinking?
There were so many more important things.