Page 36 of Play the Last Card
This man.
“I’m sorry you spilt your coffee.” He eyes the coffee-stained sidewalk.
“It’s okay. I can make another at school.” I take my bag from him, finally fishing out my keys.
I turn away and make my way to ward my car, unlocking the doors and shoving my bag into the back seat. I slip my jacket on properly.
When I turn back to him, expecting him to be behind me, I find him closing his passenger side car door. He’s got a Starbucks cup balanced in one hand, a small brown paper bag hanging from his fingers. My heart skips a beat, possibly two and I feel my jaw drop.
“Luckily, I come bearing sugary gifts.” He holds them out to me but I don’t—can’t—move.
What thefuck.
“Who are you?” I say, my eyes bouncing between the coffee in his hand and his face, the sheepish look he’s sporting utterly adorable.
“Huh?”
“No man is this good. No man does this. Not anymore.” I shake my head in disbelief. “Haven’t you heard? Chivalry died. Ages ago.”
This makes him laugh, a smirk replacing the sheepish expression. He crowds me again and I don’t protest. He reaches behind me, placing the coffee cup and the bag on the roof of my car.
“Hm. Sounds like a challenge.” He cups my face angling my face towards his. He tilts, the sun peeking under his cap and brightening his eyes. “Me. I’m this good.”
I forfeit.
He wins.
As long as he keeps kissing me and bringing me coffee, I’ve got all I need right here.
“Can I take you out tonight?” he murmurs. His lips hover above mine again.
Something in my chest jolts, probably my heart skipping yet another beat.
“What’s your last name?” I say, my heart slowing to a dangerous pace.
He freezes. Caught off guard? Maybe. Or, surprised?
The emotion flickers and disappears so quickly from his face that I don’t have time to decipher it.
“Harvey.”
“Scott Harvey.” I roll the name around on my tongue. Smiling, I look up at him. “Mine’s Booker.”
“I remember,” he tells me. I feel my brows pull together in confusion. He clarifies, bringing a thumb to gently smoothly out the crease between my brows. “From mini golf. You signed your full name. So, Ivy Booker, can I take you out tonight?”
The way he remembers a moment so insignificant. Something as small as signing my name. A contented sigh leaves my mouth as my smile widens and I lean up on my toes, kissing him. “Yes, please.”
“What time will you be home from school tonight?”
“I have to go to a pep rally at the high school this afternoon after class. First one of the year and all.” I’m a kindergarten teacher yet they still require me to show up. Show some school spirit. The downside to the school having all three campuses in one. “But I’ll be home by six.”
“I’ll pick you up at seven then?”
“Okay.”
He smiles and kisses me again. “Okay.”
“I have to go,” I say. Scott makes no move to let me go. I don’t move either. He just keeps kissing me, stepping me back a little until we’re leaning against my car and making out like teenagers.