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“Do you want to plan our next outing?” Stace asked me.

“Outing? Is that what this is?”

She raised an eyebrow. “Well. I figured if I called it a date I wouldn’t have gotten you here.”

She was right about that.

“Stace,” I said and sighed.

She put both hands up. “I know, I know. That’s why I called it an outing. If you have another word for it, then I’ll use it.”

I flipped through different words in my mind. Meeting was too corporate. Rendezvous was way too sexual.

“Fine, outing. You want me to plan it?”

She crumpled up her napkin into a ball and set it on her plate. “Only if you want to. I’m happy to take the lead.”

I bet she was.

“No. I have an idea.” I wanted to surprise Stace with something she wouldn’t expect from me.

“Color me intrigued. Just warn me ahead of time if I need to wear anything specific.”

We cleaned up the table and returned our dishes to the tray at the end of the counter.

“Good to know. Do you have a wetsuit?” I asked.

For a moment, she stared at me before laughing.

“I might be able to find one. Why?”

“Second question, are you afraid of sharks?”

Stace held the door for me and we emerged into the cool fall air. I wish I’d brought a scarf.

“No, I’m not afraid of sharks. But I am afraid of spiders. I know they don’t mean to harm me, but they freak me out. The way their legs move.” She shuddered, making me laugh.

“Are you cold?” she asked.

“No, I’m fine.” Before I’d even finished speaking, she had pulled off her sweatshirt and was handing it to me. Underneath she wore a long sleeve athletic shirt in a dark gray color that hugged her muscles and made the desire I’d somewhat gotten a handle on ignite full force again.

“I’m fine,” I said, staring at the sidewalk.

“Put on the sweatshirt, princess.”

Fuck. Her tone combined with calling me princess had me taking the sweatshirt and pulling it over my head. It was warm and smelled incredible. Stace wore a woodsy rich scent that made me think of mahogany and old books. Laced with that was clean detergent and her natural smell that I’d grown to recognize. Trying to be stealthy, I tucked my chin toward my shoulder and inhaled, closing my eyes.

Fuck. I was enveloped in delicious coziness. Almost like a hug. Almost.

The sweatshirt was huge on me, so I had to pull up the sleeves to find my hands and the hem hung so low that it could have passed as a dress.

“Shit, you look cute,” Stace said, clenching her jaw.

“Thanks,” I said, feeling my cheeks heat up, and not just because of the sweatshirt.

“I know you probably have somewhere else to be, but do you want to come over to my place? Just to hang out.”

She asked it so adorably that what could I say?