And yet oddly with Chase . . . with Chase, I want to share. Want to make her smile. Want to talk.

“I do. I am. Buzzed. I’m buzzed.”

“And you’re worried I’m trying to get you drunk to take advantage of you, huh?” I tease.

“There’s no need to get me drunk to take advantage of me, Gunner. It’s not taking advantage when we both want it.”

I open my mouth and then close it, stunned by her forwardness, and so damn enamored with her confidence. And before I can recover from surprise over her words, she laughs, then takes a few steps into the street before us. With the lights in her hair and a smile on her lips, she spins in the middle of the empty street.

Fucking hell, how is it possible that such a simple act can make me lose my breath?

She’s gorgeous with her short shorts, red Converse, and her hair pulled up into a messy ponytail. Gorgeous in that carefree, she doesn’t give a shit about what anyone else thinks about her as she twirls like a loon in the street.

I’d give anything to kiss her right now. Fucking anything.

But I need to get her food first.

Then I’ll kiss her.

The funny thing is I thought I was starving, but when we sit down at Lou’s café and order, I lose my appetite. Or maybe not lost my appetite but rather found something way more interesting to pay attention to: Chase Kincade.

“So New England, right?”

She stops mid-chew and smiles. “How’d you know?”

“I figured it was either NY or LA—a big city anyway. Which one?”

“New York.” She pauses a beat before asking. “Why?”

I chuckle and take a sip of my milkshake. “Because you’re mesmerized by the slow pace here. You stop and stare as if people being nice to you just because is abnormal.”

“Like how you were helping the lady in her car earlier,” she murmurs, and I think of ninety-five-year-old Delores, her beloved weekly trip to Grandy’s, and her all-knowing smile.

“Doesn’t everyone do that?” I ask.

“No. Actually, they don’t.” She gets a look in her eye across the dimly lit patio, but when she shakes her head it clears from her eyes.

“What?” I ask.

“You’re just nothing like I expected is all,” she murmurs and leans back.

“What did you expect?”

“I don’t know, but not you.” She laughs. “You’re nice and considerate and you took me to build LEGO. I mean, who does that?” Her tone is playful but there’s genuine sincerity that tells me she’s utterly surprised by tonight.

“Don’t all your dates take you in their power suits to build LEGO?”

She narrows her eyes at me. “What do you mean?”