“Do you want me to cook for you?” She asks shyly, putting her panties back on and sliding off the table.

“No babe, we’ll go out for dinner. You cookin’ in my kitchen in those shoes will not motivate me to get a shower or get us fed.”

A devilish smile comes across her face. “I can take the shoes off.” She starts to step out of them.

“Oh no, you keep those shoes on.” Leaning down to her ear, I breathe against her. “Later, I’m gonna fuck you for hours in Just. Those. Shoes.” I feel her nod against me.

Pulling away without another word, I go take a very cold shower. She cleans herself up and my kitchen table. Just thinking of fucking her again, I’m getting hard. Doll is here. Damn, she twists me up in a way no one has before.

34

I Don’t Date

Tripp walks out in a charcoal gray shirt, jeans, and his motorcycle boots. His hair still wet from his shower is pulled back. The look on my face must have given away my appreciation because Tripp is smiling at me.

“Like what you see?” He says, stalking over to me.

“You clean up well.” I smile up at him. He places a quick kiss on my forehead then takes my hand and leads me out to his truck.

We get to the restaurant, are seated, and order. Catching up over our meal, I update him on Tank and my day to day stuff. As much as I want nothing more than to be home, lost in bed with Tripp, I need to talk to him about his mom. I don’t want to ruin our evening, but I can’t get her out of my thoughts. As we’re waiting for our dessert, he seems to notice my head is all over the place.

“What are you over there lost in thought about?”

“Your mom.” I answer honestly. Sadness quickly washes over both of us. Damn it, Doll, learn to shut your mouth.

“Lucy isn’t your problem Doll.” His eyes meeting mine with a stern stare.

“Hear me out, please.” I pause giving him a chance to stop me. His silence allows me to continue. “My mom is gone. I can’t know what you feel because I had her for a while, but I do know what loss feels like. The difference is you don’t have to have the loss. People can change. Give her a chance. Don’t look back and miss something great because of pride or inability to forgive.”

“Doll,” He starts.

Cutting him off, I continue, the tears prick at the back of my eyes. “Life is short. Tomorrow isn’t promised. Look at Tank. At least give her a chance to say what she needs to say before you close her out completely.”

“Doll.” He starts again, but I put my hand up in protest.