"Baz, can I ask you a question?"
He flicks his eyes up to mine. "Anything."
Here goes nothing.
"Why did you follow me last night? Why didn't you just let me go?"
The way he scans over my face makes me feel put on the spot. Makes me feel vulnerable. What exactly does he see? No one has ever looked at me the way he does.
"When a beautiful woman sits down and strikes up a conversation with you, you don't just let an opportunity to get to know her go to waste."
I press my chin into my shoulder shyly and gaze back at Baz. "You think I'm beautiful?"
"Stevie, I think you're the most beautiful woman I've ever encountered."
I swear I swoon. I've been called beautiful so many times I've lost count. But when Baz says it, the word suddenly takes on a life of its own. And for the first time, I actually believe that I am beautiful.
Whatever reservations I've had about Baz, and however fucked up our situation may be, the simple truth is, I want this man. I want to see where that smoldering look will take us. And what will happen if I allow myself to cross the line. If I allow Baz to kiss me just as he's about to do. Leaning in so slowly, so spellbindingly, I forget about the whole world. About my present and my past and who I really am.
"Stevie, say it again," he whispers, his lips a breath away from mine.
"Say what?" I question, mesmerized.
"My name. I think that's the first time you've ever spoken my name."
"Baz," I breathe seductively, and he purrs like a lion. So does my pussy. Fuck, I want him. No, I need him. Right fucking here and right fucking now.
Kiss me, Baz, so we can shatter the glass ceiling. So we can be together.
Something cold suddenly touches the tip of my nose, then my cheeks, then my shoulders. I snap out of Baz's spell long enough to realize what's happening. I look up as big, fat, wet snowflakes fall from the sky.
"Oh, my god. It's snowing." I look around at the wintery scene unfolding.
It's a surreal moment to be submerged in the warm spring as the snow rests on the trees but evaporates on the ground and the surface of the water.
"I think Mother Nature is showing off for you," Baz remarks as he catches the fluffy crystals in the palm of his hand.
"I'm definitely impressed."
"Your trip was well worth it then."
I regard Baz guiltily. "I think it was."
I'm so fucking screwed.
We cuddle together as the snow falls, flakes accumulating in his long, dark hair and soft beard. We watch the flurries a few minutes more before Baz turns to me. "Will you have dinner with me tonight?"
"Of course I will." There's no other answer I could possibly consider.
Baz's face lights up with a grin as wide as the Cheshire cats. As mischievous, too.
"I think we should go soon," Baz suggests. "It's not cold enough for the snow to accumulate, but it's going to be cold and wet on the hike back."
"I'm ready when you are."
"There's one thing you're going to learn about me, Stevie. I'm always ready."
I leer at him. What a coincidence, so am I.
Baz was right; the hike back to the truck was cold and wet. The snow didn't let up until we were half way back to town. Thank God for heated seats. It took forever to rid the chill parked in my bones.
"So where are we having dinner?" I inquire as I press my bare hands to the vents.
"My house?"
"Are you asking or telling?"
"Asking. Would that be okay? I have some fresh venison steaks marinating in the fridge."
"Oh, really? Was this dinner invitation premeditated?" I toy with him.
"No," he scoffs like that's preposterous. "Kinda." He changes his tune. "Maybe. Okay, yes." He chews on his bottom lip unrepentantly as he drives.
"I've never eaten venison before," I confess.
"You'll love it. I killed and skinned the deer myself."
"Yum?" I don't exactly know how to respond to that tidbit of information. I usually don't know where the meat I eat comes from, and I'm sort of okay with that.
"I promise it will be great."
"I'm up for trying anything once." I allude to so much more than food.
The way Baz's mouth twitches tells me he received the subliminal message.
With butterflies causing a ruckus in my ribcage, we pull up to a small log cabin in the fucking middle of nowhere.
"This is where you live?" I scrutinize the tiny house surrounded by woods. "Are you sure you're not a serial killer?"
Baz laughs. A loud, free, belly-rumbling laugh. "Definitely not. I hate violence."
"Huh. Good to know," I deliberate as he gets out of the truck and jogs around to my side. He opens the passenger side door and helps me out.