I swept my hands across, telling the story with a healthy dose of high drama. "Not exactly, but he did snatch her right out of my hands and said I probably wet my pants like the doll did. Then he twisted off her head and threw each part of her into the forbidden forest where dragons roam."
"Dragons?" He smirked.
"The woods behind the school. I'm going for theatrical here. Stay with me."
"You have to be one of the weirdest girls I've ever met."
"Thanks for the compliment, but do you want me to finish the story?"
"Yes, you have my complete attention. I have to know who rescued the doll from these … dragons?"
"My sisters did. I don't know what Marley said to Bruce Tomkins but I swear the next time I saw him, he almost wet his pants. Stevie looked for hours until she found Lady Lulu's head and body. She took them to our mom, who cleaned and stitched her up. One of her eyes was missing so they had to find the closest match. Once they were all done creating her again, they decided she was scary as hell and not to give her to me. But I'd already seen her. I fell in love with her then. Years later, when Dillon came into our lives, he saw her in my room. He had a similar reaction to you. He bought her the dress. He said if I was going have an ugly doll, at least put a pretty dress on her."
"That's a nice story, Price."
"Yeah, I've kept her all these years, not because of the doll itself, but what she represents to me."
I slid off the table and set her in a prominent place on my center shelf. "She's a symbol of sacrifice. Sometimes, that stuff is scary or ugly, but if you look hard enough, it's always beautiful."
I expected him to laugh, but he clapped instead.
"I'm sentimental, if you haven't noticed."
"I can see that."
I found the knives and started rinsing them.
"So … why is it a big deal to share your chocolate?" he asked, his masculine scent covering me like a cloak I never wanted to take off.
I threw an orange to him. "Make yourself useful. Peel that, please." He washed his hands. They were huge hands, but his fingers were long-masculine but elegant.
"Are you gonna answer the question?"
"Huh?"
"Chocolate," he reminded me.
"Oh yeah, I'm addicted to it. It's good you're here or I'd eat all of it."
We worked together, him peeling oranges and me slicing cheese. I held up the plate with the artfully arranged oranges, slivers of dark chocolate, wedges of cheese and a few potato chips.
He opted for the chocolate. Couldn't blame him there, but why did he have to move his mouth so seductively? Or lick his bottom lip, mimicking the exact thing I wanted to do … to him. "There's nothing wrong in indulging once in a while."
"There is if you can't stop yourself. If you want it so much you ache for it and it consumes all your thoughts."
"Maybe you should just give in. It's the only way to stop the cravings."
"Giving in is a form of surrender."
"Giving in is a form of release," he whispered.
The plate shook in my hands. He took another piece of chocolate and held it against my lips. My mouth parted, awaiting his offering. His thumb rubbed against my bottom lip. It tasted good … rich, dark, bitter and sweet. Wait … was I talking about the chocolate?
I took a piece of fruit, hoping the burst of citrus would cool me off.
"That's not what you want. You can settle for it but it's not going to satisfy you in the way this can," he said, feeding me another piece of chocolate.
"It's healthier for me."
"It's a poor substitute."
I took a segment of orange and fed it to him. "You should try it. You might like it." His tongue flicked against my finger.
"Anything you offer me, I'm willing to try."
"I think you get bored easily and prefer a variety. You never cultivate any true preferences that way."
"Fair enough. I can make a sacrifice too. If I promised to be faithful to one type of chocolate while I'm here, would that make a difference?"
"Why would you want to do that?"
"It's delicious enough to keep my mind completely distracted. There's something about it that appeals to me and I want to give in to it."
"Wait, this is getting confusing. What are we talking about?"
He backed away a few steps. "Chocolate, right?"
I chuckled, the laugh a little too high-pitched to sound natural. "Yes, of course."
He took the plate from me and set it on the counter. "When you're ready to have a real conversation, you let me know. In the meantime, want to come out and play with me?"
"What did you have in mind?" I snagged another piece of chocolate because I needed to freely give in to one temptation to keep my mind off the other.
"Let me take you to the candy shop."
I almost choked on the chocolate. "Um … Evan."
"They have really quality stuff. I think you'd like it."
Fuck … he was talking about a real candy shop.
"Okay," I said, leaning against the counter so my knees would stop shaking.
He took my hand. I ignored the spark that started in my pulse and worked its way down my spine. He kicked the third step a few times.
"My stepdad fixed it," I explained.
"Nice," he said.
We went out to the back, where his gleaming bike stood.
"Here, it should fit," he said, handing me a helmet. It looked new and it was definitely made for a woman's head.
"We're going on your motorcycle?" I asked, suddenly excited and nervous all over again.
"Hell yeah, you think I want to take the bus?"
I gulped, running my hand over the seats.
"Are you okay with this?"
"I've just never ridden on one before."
He put the helmet on my head and secured it before putting on his own. "Just hold onto me as tight as you can."
He hopped on and I got behind him. "Tighter," he said in a commanding voice.
The throttle between my thighs, the feel of his muscular back and wind circling against us made it difficult to concentrate.
"Who is this?" I asked when we stopped at a light, taking in the tune that poured from his speakers.
"Big and Rich. You never heard them?"
"No, but I like it."
The song boasted the importance of saving horses and opting to ride cowboys instead. Definitely an important public service announcement.
"Looks like there is some music I can school you in."
The candy shop didn't disappoint. They served coffee in edible chocolate cups and featured jellybeans from around the world. Thankfully, Evan didn't try to feed me.
"It's dangerous to bring me here."
"I'm a dangerous man, Billie. When you roll with me, be prepared to live on the edge." His mouth quirked at the corners before he finished the sentence.
I burst out laughing, taking in the sight of his muscular, tattooed frame against the backdrop of pink polka dot walls and the glass jars of peppermint sticks.
"I think this is my new favorite place. Thank you for taking me."
"Want to see my favorite place?"
"Sure. What is it?"
"Guess."
"I'm going with a motorcycle shop, a record store or a tattoo parlor."
"All good guesses, but none of them right."
When we pulled up to his favorite place, I was happy for the helmet because it shielded my shock. "The library is your favorite place?"
"I haven't been here in a long time, but my mom used to bring us every weekend. I've been wanting to get a card."
"My mom worked here."
"Really?"
"Yeah." Our arms bumped a few times as we walked into the building. I wondered if I'd ever seen a young Evan here, since we'd spent many weekends at the library too.
"What did you look like in high school?"
"Like this, with shorter hair, minus the tattoos and piercing."
I gasped. "You have a piercing? Where is it?"
"You'll have to decide if you're curious enough to find out for yourself."
I stopped in my tracks and crossed my arms. "Just give me a clue. Is it what I think it is?"
"No can do, Price. You're not getting it out of me."
"You're playing a dirty game, Evan."
"Never said I played clean." He put his arm around me. "If you want to play with me, be prepared to get dirty."
How could you respond to that?
"What did you look like, Billie?"
"Glasses, braces and a mild case of acne … my awkward phase. You wouldn't have given me a second look."
"Probably not."
I elbowed him.
He grabbed my arm and spun me around. "You were in eighth grade and I was a senior in high school. What kind of creepy asshole would I be if I gave you any looks?"