Page 26 of The Disasters of Dating (Love Connections #6)

Keaton

Oooh. Sounds like you have a big night planned.

“Would you like to reply?” she asks.

“Yes,” I say.

“What would you like to say to Keaton Barrington?”

Oh, my heck. This conversation could take FOREVER if I do it this way. I pull into the nearest gas station and park my car. Pulling my phone out of the charger, I type out my text.

Do I sound lame if I say yes?

Dots appear on the screen and then disappear. Then they appear again but disappear just as quickly. Finally.

Keaton

Will you think badly of me if I say yes?

I laugh out loud. No wonder his dots kept disappearing. I’d guess he was trying to decide if we knew each other well enough to say that. But I think after holding hands on our hike last night that we are. It looks like Keaton thinks so, too.

Rude…

Keaton

Sorry. I don’t think you’re lame. Especially if this is one of your only nights off, and I kept you out past grocery shopping hours.

What are you up to?

Keaton

Nothing. I have everything packed and ready to leave tomorrow. But apparently I’m too efficient because now I’m sitting here with nothing to do.

I hate it when I’m too efficient.

Keaton

I know, right?

I pull my lip between my teeth, not certain I should do what I’m thinking of doing.

You want to hang out for a little while? It’s still pretty early.

Keaton

Sure. What are you thinking?

Ice cream???

Keaton

I’m not really an ice cream guy…said no one ever. Where and when?

I smile and a tingle of excitement works its way up my spine, making me shudder slightly. Knock it off, Pops. Friends have ice cream together all the time without it leading to something more. I’m being nice by giving him something to do before he leaves tomorrow.

There’s a place called Spoons on 126th in Draper. Meet you there in 45?

Keaton

I’m ordering my Uber now.

Cool. I’ll see you there.

Keaton

Not if I see you first! Sorry, my grandpa somehow came out in me just then. I’ll force him back inside on the car ride up.

I laugh as I put my phone back in the holder and put the car back in gear. I may not be hanging with my mom or Paisleigh, but this could still turn out to be a good night.

I pull up to the ice cream shop and sit in my car for a minute.

Tapping my thumbs on the steering wheel, I drop my head forward.

What am I doing? Every time I’m with Keaton, it feels a little less friend-y and a little more date-y.

What is it about him that makes me put aside one of my hard and fast rules?

No dating tourists. I’ve never broken it before.

A knock sounds on my window, and I jerk up with a squeak.

Keaton is standing at my door, one hand in his jeans pocket and the other lifted in a wave.

He smiles at me, and I melt a little. I sit up straight and glance in the rearview mirror to make sure my hair isn’t all wonkadoodle.

Although he has literally seen me at my worst. So I guess anything better than that is good?

I close my eyes and send a plea for good vibes into the universe.

I open my door. “You scared the crap out of me. I almost wet my pants.”

He grins but lifts his hands in front of him in a conciliatory manner. “Sorry. I was worried that might happen.”

I hop out of the car and close the door behind me. No skirt to worry about tonight. I chose not to change out of the pants I was wearing. In the eighties, they were called Hammer pants. But I prefer to call them harem pants. They are nice and cool in the late August heat.

He looks me over and smiles. Not a mocking kind of smile like some people give me but more of an appreciative kind.

It makes my chest constrict a little. I rarely care what people think of me.

If I did, I would have changed my look a long time ago.

But for some reason, his approval brings a smile to my lips.

I motion to the store. “Should we head in? I realize you’re only here as a courtesy, not because you like ice cream.

But since I mentioned it, that’s all I can think about.

” A mostly true statement. I have thought a great deal about ice cream.

But it was mostly Keaton eating ice cream or, more accurately, Keaton licking his cone.

I close my eyes and shake my head. What is wrong with me?

He motions for me to go ahead of him and holds the door open.

“Thanks,” I say as I walk in. I wrap my arms around myself, warding off the cold. With how hot it is outside, it makes it feel that much colder inside—if that makes any sense.

“Wow.” He looks up at the menu board. “How do you decide what to get? There are so many options.”

I step toward the counter and the waiting server. “I’ll get the cookie craze in a waffle cone, please.”

“What size?” The teenage girl asks as she pulls a waffle cone from the stack.

“Small, please.”

She nods and moves back to the freezers to scoop.

I look over at Keaton. He’s still staring at the board, while the guy behind the counter gives him a ‘any time now’ look.

“I can’t decide.” There is a hint of panic in his voice.

I put my hand on his arm. “It’s okay. The only time limit you have is the store closing, and you still have a few hours before that happens.”

He relaxes a little.

The girl behind the counter hands me my cone—a heaping mass of vanilla ice cream with bits of cookie dough and Oreo cookie mixed throughout. It’s pure bliss in a sugary sweet cone.

Keaton looks at me. “That looks good. Maybe I’ll get that.”

I run my tongue up the side, and he watches me for a minute. He swallows. “Yeah, I think I’ll get that.”

“Good choice,” I say as I grab a spoon to eat in a more civilized manner.

He places his order, and we move to the register. I tell the guy my order.

“Are you two together?”

“No,” I say at the same time Keaton says, “Yes.”

I look back at him. “I can pay for my own cone.”

His eyes crinkle and squint slightly. But then he smiles. “Really, it’s okay. You are saving me from an evening of boredom. Think of it as your entertainment fee.”

My inner voice is telling me not to accept his offer. I’m already dipping my toe in the rule breaking pond. I don’t need to dive in headfirst. But another voice inside—one that I don’t even recognize—says it’s just ice cream. Let him pay.

“Are you sure?” I ask. “Because you already paid for that first dinner. And it was so expensive.”

He grins. “Yeah, but that was my own fault. I purposely ordered the most expensive things on the menu.”

I stare at him. He did what ?

He tells the cashier his order and pulls out his credit card. Before I can protest any further, he taps his card and finishes the transaction. Putting his hand on the small of my back—I close my eyes to ward off the shiver—he moves us to the side to wait for his cone.

To get my mind off his hand on my back, I go back to the last point of conversation. “What do you mean you purposely ordered the most expensive thing?”

He grimaces. “I figured you probably were thinking of buying me a burger or something. But you’d just tried to have me arrested,” he lifts a shoulder.

“And I wanted to spend more time with you than a quick burger. That is why I recommended that restaurant. I know you didn’t believe me when I told you I was planning all along to pay for the meal, but that is true.

I may have wanted to watch you squirm a little when I ordered.

I felt I deserved that much. But then everything went so terribly wrong.

” He lets out a regretful sigh. “I realized my little joke was not very funny.”

“So you didn’t even want the crab-stuffed halibut?”

He reaches for the cone the server is holding over the counter and lifts his chin. “Thanks,” he says. “Do you want to sit inside or out?” He glances at my goose-bumped arms—or what is visible below my three-quarter sleeves. “Outside?”

I nod. “Yes, please.”

He pushes the door open and waits for me to walk out in front of him. Motioning to a table, we settle into the hard, metal chairs. I guess it’s one way to keep people from staying too long.

“I do like halibut,” he says after swallowing his first bite. “Man, this is good. I could get addicted to it easily.”

“I know, right?” I say before putting a large, some might say too large, spoonful into my mouth.

“Anyway, I do like halibut. But I could just as easily have ordered the halibut burger and been happy. I was being vengeful in a passive-aggressive way.” He glances up at me over the top of his cone. “Sorry?”

I fold my arms and stare at him. I can understand why he did it. That was not my finest hour…or day. “How about if we forget about that day? I don’t think either of us were at our best.”

He takes a bite of ice cream and gives me a closed-mouth grin. “Deal,” he says once he’s swallowed. “Man, I have a serious threat of becoming fat while I’m working here now that I know this exists.”

I laugh. “We have another ice cream place that is totally different but equally addictive.”

He grins. “Does that mean you’ll introduce me to it next week? ”

I freeze halfway to my cone, mouth wide open. Do I want to hang out with him more next week? My throbbing pulse seems to say yes, I do want to hang out with him. I close my mouth and lean back. “Sure. What days are you here?”

He lifts a shoulder in indifference, but he keeps his eyes on me. “Same as usual. Fly in on Sunday. Fly out on Thursday night.”

I suck in a breath. “I have Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday off again next week. I’m supposed to do something with my friend, Paisleigh, on Wednesday. But I can change it if I need to.”

He shakes his head. “No. That’s fine.” His brow creases. “And you hang out with your mom on Monday?”

I shake my head. “I don’t think we have a standing night anymore. She has been busy recently.”

He takes a bite of his ice cream, and I get the chills on his behalf. “What if we do something on Monday?”

I watch as a drip starts at the top of my ice cream and runs down until it hits the lip of the cone.

It puddles there for a minute before it overflows and makes a mad dash for the cone tip.

Just before it gets to the bottom, I lift it and lick up the side of the cone and onto the ice cream.

I swallow and suck in another big breath as I see him watching me. He has a very pensive look on his face.

I wipe at my mouth, feeling self-conscious.

Do I have ice cream all over my face? To avoid more awkwardness, I smile.

“Okay. Sounds fun.” Oh, man. This feels like a heavy decision.

And my horoscope warned me I should table such decisions for another time.

But do I listen? Nope. Dang that whirling Mercury!