I’ve been on plenty of dates before, but I don’t remember ever being this nervous, standing in my parents’ living room while my mom fusses over me and Burt stands in a corner with a smile on his face.
“You wore the dress I bought you!”
“Is it too much?” I tug at the hem, but it doesn’t stretch past my midthigh.
“Of course not! You look gorgeous,” Mom says.
She was beyond excited to go shopping with me today in search of a new outfit for my date. With the way she cried when I stepped out of the fitting room in this short dress, someone could think I was trying on wedding gowns.
“Should I get my ax and give him a speech on the porch?” Burt asks.
I shake my head. “I must insist you don’t.”
“It could be fun.”
“It could also get you arrested, so there’s that.”
My stepdad laughs as he pulls me in for a hug. “He’s lucky you gave him a second chance.”
My lips curl at the corners. “I’m happy I did.”
The wrinkles beside his eyes soften. “You like him a lot, don’t you?”
“Just a teensy bit.”
Mom squeals like she is in grade school again. “Are you joking? You’re glowing.”
“Okay, fine. I like him a lot.” As if I conjured him up by just talking about him, Rafael rings the doorbell.
My mom grabs Burt and drags him out of the room, but he still shouts, “Treat her well or else I’ll introduce you to my ax,” when I open the door.
Rafael holds out a baby pink hibiscus that looks like he plucked it straight from one of the bushes we saw in Hawaii.
I stare at it. “Where did you find that?”
“I have my sources.”
My cheeks flush as he curls my hair behind my ear before adding the flower. “A pretty flower for a stunning woman.”
I can hear Mom and Burt whispering about it, so I grab my purse and shut the front door behind me.
Rafael dressed up tonight in a button-down linen shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows and a pair of dark shorts. While I was a secret fan of his more rugged outfits and appearance, I won’t deny he looks just as handsome right now. “You clean up nice, Prom King.”
His narrowed eyes travel over my face. “Never call me that again.”
I grin. “Afraid you may like it?”
“I can absolutely guarantee I won’t.”
I stick my tongue out at him, and he kisses my cheek with an airy laugh before leading me to his pickup truck. He opens the door for me before sliding into the driver’s seat and turning the key.
“So, what are we doing?” I ask.
“It’s a surprise.” He pulls out of my parents’ driveway before taking the road out of Lake Wisteria.
“We’re leaving town?”
He pushes against the accelerator. “Yup.”
“Do you not want to be seen in public with me?” I tease.
His eyes narrow in my direction. “I can turn back around and parade you down Main Street if that makes you happy. I’ll even find you a crown and declare you my prom queen.”
I glare. “Hilarious.”
“Would a sash entice you more?”
“Tempting, but I’ll politely pass on that for now.” I’d rather keep Rafael to myself for a few more weeks before everyone in town finds out about our relationship. The news would come with hundreds of questions I don’t feel like answering, so I’d rather delay that for as long as possible.
He chuckles. “That’s what I thought.”
“Aren’t you not allowed within a hundred feet of Main Street after the fire hydrant incident?” Supposedly, Rafael can’t get near any after opening one during Julian and Dahlia’s epic high school prank war.
“They lifted the ban last year.” His head tilts. “Wait. How do you know about that?”
“Um.” My cheeks burn as I fail to come up with an answer fast enough.
Something flashes in his eyes before he squints. “You graduated three years after me, right?”
“Yes?”
“The fire hydrant incident happened when I was a sophomore.”
“Huh. I didn’t realize. You know how fast word travels around here.” I keep a neutral expression despite my entire face giving my feelings away like a mood ring.
“And you knew I was the prom king.”
I cross my arms. “So did most of the student body.”
“But you also remembered what my superlative was.”
“I was part of the yearbook club.”
“And who handled the superlative section?”
“Some junior you weren’t friends with.” The answer slips out before I really think about Rafael’s question.
Shit.
His eyes sparkle with mischief. “Interesting how you would remember not only my superlative over a decade later but also whether or not I was friends with the person who put the page together.”
“I’ve got a great memory.”
“You write down notes on your phone about the most menial things so you don’t forget about them.” His dry tone matches the look on his face.
“Is it too late to plead the Fifth?”
“You’re not on trial here.”
“Sure feels like I am.”
His smile could put the devil’s to shame. “Having a crush on me wasn’t a crime, but if it were, we both know you’d be guilty as charged.”
I lift my chin and accept my fate. “So what if I did?”
“I’d say it makes this all much more interesting.”
“Really? That makes it more interesting?”
“Of course.”
“Please elaborate.”
“Because I seem to remember you mentioning that I wasn’t your type.”
My lips thin.
“So tell me. How deep did this crush go?” He brings my hand to his mouth and kisses the back of it, as if he can distract me into spilling the truth.
Nice try. “If I had a crush—”
“Which we both know you did.”
Ignoring him is easy. “I would never talk to you about it.”
“Even if I torture you for information?”
My cheeks burn as his kind of torture comes to mind. “Not even then.”
“Hm.” He stares at me for a few passing seconds, most likely determining how serious I am. The answer is deadly so, because Rafael finding out how much I crushed on him is not an option, especially since I wrote a terrible song about him that will never see the light of day.
He smiles to himself. “I’ll find out what I want to know with or without your help.”
I scoff. “Good luck.”
“If my meddling aunt taught me anything, it’s that parents can’t help spilling secrets about their kids when asked the right questions.”
Shit.
Rafael drives through a town I haven’t seen before. Unlike Lake Wisteria and its Victorian coastal aesthetic, this one is inspired by a Bavarian village with its exposed dark-wood framing, colorful exteriors, and cobblestone streets.
I’m surprised when he pulls into a parking spot on what appears to be the main road into town and turns the engine off.
I don’t recognize our surroundings, so I ask, “Where are we?”
“Lebkuchen.”
“And what are we doing here exactly?”
“You’ll see in a minute.”
He tells me to wait while he walks around the truck, opens my door, and holds his hand out for me to grab. I latch on to it and hop out of the truck. With my hand in his, we walk down the quaint, paved road that seems to feature a lot of the town’s biggest stores.
After a five-minute walk, Rafael stops in front of a record shop with a sign on the front door that says Closed.
“Cute idea, but looks like they’re closed.”
He ignores me. “You were looking for a Frankie Estelle record, right?”
I might have mentioned that one in passing to Nico, so how does he—
“The search history.” My eyes widen.
His eyes glimmer. “Edibles. Collectible records. What’s next?”
I could have sworn I cleared the history that night after I searched for—
A vibrator. “Oh shit.”
He wraps an arm around me and pulls me in. “So you remember.”
A flush spreads from my head to my toes. “Let’s agree to never speak of that night again.”
“Oh, Elle. It’s a little too late for that.” His grin holds a devious promise.
I could drop dead.
In fact, I hope I do.
He drops a quick kiss on my lips before swiping at my bottom lip with his thumb. “I’ve been dying to know something.”
“What?”
“Did you ever buy it?”
“I—”
He stops me. “It was a yes–no question.”
I’m tempted to wrap my hands around his throat, but I hold back because those things may be frowned upon during a first date, but then again, so is bringing up a vibrator.
I glare at him, and he smiles back.
“Shouldn’t you be against that kind of thing?” I ask with an arched brow.
“Why would I be?”
“Because if I’m using a vibrator, we clearly have a problem.”
His laughter is quickly becoming my favorite sound. “I’m all about teamwork in the bedroom.”
My cheeks flush. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“You won’t have to wait long to find out.” He winks.
