Page 155 of Bluffed By the Offense

Now, everything I say, every movement, every choice matters.

I want Marcus Delaney. As crazy as it seems, I want him in a way I never thought I could feel about a man. He used to annoy me. Then he was biding his time, or so I thought—waiting for the minute we could call this off. But now, he’s giving me a chance. I don’t want to mess it up.

“Where are you taking me, Cold Turkey?” I ask.

He chuckles at the nickname, holding the door open and shutting it behind me.

“You’ll see,” he says.

“Oh, so that’s how this is going to be?”

“Yeah, Carter.” He draws my name out intentionally. It affects me just the way he hopes it will. “I planned a date. You get to kick back and enjoy yourself.”

“You mean, you’re going to boss me around all night?” I ask, teasing him.

“I’ve heard I’ve got a reputation for being bossy,” he winks at me in this way that makes my skin tight and my nerves skitter. “I thought, why fight that? So, I’m leaning into it.”

“Okay,” I say. “I’ll be your passenger princess.”

He steps closer when we get to his car. “Good. You look like a princess. I like when you wear your hair down.” He smiles down at me, running a lock of my hair through his fingertips. “And up. I like your hair.”

“Okay,” I say, blushing. “Thank you.”

“And brown looks good on you. It brings out your eyes.”

I laugh softly. I’m not used to the compliments—at least not when I know he’s being sincere. I always assumed he was selling the bit.

“You look nice too,” I say, feeling slightly lame for not matching his intensity.

He leans in and whispers in my ear. “Relax, Carter. It’s just me. Just us. We’re just going to grab dinner.”

How did he know?

I feel like leaning into him, holding on and not letting go. I need to borrow his confidence, his steadiness. As if he can read my mind, he places his pointer finger under my chin and tilts my head up so we’re staring eye to eye.

“I’m going to hug you, Cass. Is that alright?”

“Yes. I’d like that,” I admit.

He draws me into his arms and I melt into him, placing my cheek over his heart. We stand there, on the curb outside my home, holding on to one another.

“Okay,” I say after a beat. “This is already the weirdest date you’ve been on, I bet.”

“Or the best,” he says. “But I’m hungry. Let’s go get some food.”

“You aren’t even in season,” I say.

“I’m still hungry. I barely cut a thousand daily calories.”

I laugh, climbing into the passenger seat when he holds the door open for me.

We drive through town. Marcus turns on the radio and Come and Get Your Love by Redbone starts playing. He starts singing in an overly exaggerated way, wagging his brows playfully and gesturing to me. I shake my head, but by the time we’re a few blocks away from the restaurant, I’m belting it along with him. My nerves settle into the comfort of the familiarity of goofing off with Marcus.

And then I realize where we’re headed.

“Fork and Fiddle?” I ask.

“I figured I owed you a do-over.”