“I’m just saying.”
Graham sighed. “I like her, too.”
His mom was asleep by six and his dad was glued to a baseball game on TV, so Graham asked Claire if she wanted to go out for dinner.
Her face lit up and she spent the next half hour researching local restaurants on her phone while he cleaned up and changed. His jaw nearly hit the floor when he walked into his old room and saw her. She’d changed into a casual T-shirt dress he hadn’t seen before, and while there was nothing noteworthy about it, everything about her wearing it drew him in. She was the perfect mix of sexy and comfortable, and he wanted to bottle this feeling in his chest for safekeeping, proof to remind himself when he was old that there was once a woman who made him want to drop to his knees and give her the world.
He made his way to the bed and sat on the edge, tossing his crutches on the mattress. He reached for her and pulled her to stand between his legs. “I changed my mind,” he said to the thin layer of cotton separating his lips from her skin. He ran his hands up her back and nuzzled her ribs with his nose. “I want to stay right here.”
“Hmm.” She sighed. “That sounds nice.”
His body and heart lit up. “Yeah?”
“Yes. But first you have to feed me.”
As if on cue, his own stomach growled. He mimicked the sound in his throat and tilted his head to meet her eyes. “Fine. You win this time.”
“Oh, Graham,” she said with a laugh, “I always win.”
She walked to the dresser and grabbed her purse while he steadied his crutches back on the ground.
“Not when you play cards with my mom, apparently.”
She pinned him with a faux stern glare. “Do you want to get laid tonight or not?”
“Very much so, yes.” He decided against bringing up her earlier rule that they wouldn’t have sex in his parents’ house. Whatever had changed her mind, he wouldn’t question it. “What I meant to say was, Claire, you are forever the winner of all time.”
Flipping her blond hair over her shoulder, she continued out the door. “That’s what I thought.”
As if forgetting something, she stopped short and doubled back, nearly smacking into his chest. She went to the bed and pressed a kiss to his dog’s head. “See you later, Gertie.”
Fuck.
He was so screwed.
He didn’t recognize the name of the restaurant she’d picked, but the area her navigation directed them to was an up-and-coming, hipster part of town that had been mostly abandoned warehouses when he was a kid.
The place didn’t take reservations and they arrived to find a forty-five-minute wait.
Claire scrunched her nose at him. “Go somewhere else or wait it out?”
“How hungry are you?”
“Ravenous.”
Shit, why did that response turn him on? He took a deep breath and told himself to rein it in. “How badly do you want to eat here?”
A sad look entered her eyes. “It looked really good.”
The hostess cut in, “If it helps, we’ll text you when the table is ready, and there are several adorable shops across the street. You can check them out and won’t even notice the time pass.”
Claire shrugged. “Okay.”
Graham eyed the hostess. “Are they owned by the same folks as this place?”
Claire pursed her lips and turned apologetic eyes on the woman. “Sorry about him. Please put our name in, that sounds great.”
She gave the hostess her cell number and they stepped back out onto the sidewalk.
Claire eyed his leg. “You don’t have to come shopping if you’d rather sit down somewhere.”
He shook his head. “I’m good. I’ll come with you.”
They browsed a local art gallery first, then went into a boutique with an eclectic blend of merchandise. They passed a section of kids’ toys, kitchen gadgets, and wine, and made their way toward a small section of women’s clothing and accessories in the back.
A woman with dark hair browsed in the corner, her back to them. When she turned, Graham stopped in his tracks.
Claire glanced back at him and, noticing his expression, frowned. “What?”
He tipped his head, wordlessly asking her to come closer. “That’s Angela,” he said in a low voice.
Claire whipped her head around, located the woman, then turned wide eyes on him. “The Angela?”
He nodded, jaw tight. He reminded himself Claire didn’t know the entire story, because he’d only told her in an email she’d never read. But she obviously remembered the name.