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“I think I left my keys on your porch.”
“No worries; this is a quiet neighborhood.” He pushes his feet into a pair of slides lined up neatly beside the door. Next to them is a smaller, sparkly pink pair.
I find my keys on the teak coffee table where I left them.
“See, no worries,” he says, smiling.
My hand ends up in his as we walk down the stairs and over to my car. I spin around, smiling up at him. “I had a nice night.”
His lips part, showing off his straight teeth. “So did I.” His fingers curve around my chin as he leans in, pressing his lips to mine for a soft kiss. As brief as it may be, I’m currently questioning my reasons for leaving.
“Are you sure I can’t convince you to stay?” he asks, his lips curving mischievously.
My body screams to stay, and my brain tells me to leave. I’ve always tried to do the right thing, and in this case, it’s no different.
“As tempting as your offer is, I need to get home.”
“All right.” He opens the door for me, and I lower inside. “Before you go, I’d like your phone number.”
Plucking my phone from the cup holder, I hand it over to him. “Call yourself.”
“You don’t have a code on your phone?” he asks.
I shake my head. “There’s nothing in there that I’d care if anyone saw.”
He taps the screen for a bit before handing it back to me. “I’d rather text you than have to communicate on Finder.”
“Sounds good.”
“Drive safe, Mae.”
“I will.”
He closes my door and backs away as I start my car. I give a quick wave before backing from his driveway. And just like the first night, I beep the horn as I drive off. But this time I know we’ll see each other again. And damned if I’m not already looking forward to it.
CHAPTER 10
TREY
“What do you think, Gwennie? Is it a masterpiece?” I step back from the easel and study the brown and green blob that’s supposed to be a palm tree.
Her gaze leaps from the canvas she’s painting to mine. “I think you’ll be a better team owner than an artist,” she answers diplomatically.
I laugh. “I hope you’re right. My art leaves a lot to be desired. It looks like you’ve got all the talent in the family.” I point at her canvas, where the palm tree and beach scene look like they were painted by a professional artist.
“You can’t be good at everything, Dad.”
“You’re right. I’m having fun with my favorite girl, and that’s all that matters.”
“It’s good you’re here with me and not on a date.”
“Why are you saying that?”
“Because your painting wouldn’t impress them.”
“Ouch,” I say, clutching my chest.
“Sorry. But I don’t want you to embarrass yourself.”