“That’s a start. What else?”
“I didn’t go on my first date until I was twenty-two.” He looked away, ashamed.
“Why?”
He shrugged. “Late bloomer, I guess. Your turn.”
I tapped my finger to my lip. “Ghostbusters gave me nightmares for weeks when I was little.”
He laughed a little. “Really? Not a scary movie person?”
I shook my head.
“Noted. What else?”
“I was scared to go out with you because I didn’t know if I could handle another failed first date.” The words left my mouth before I could take them back. I was utterly embarrassed for admitting that so quickly.
“I was scared shitless too. Here’s to never having to go on a first date again.” He raised his glass to mine.
“I’ll drink to that.” I giggled.
“I really like you, Harper. I hope you know that.”
“That feeling is very much mutual.”
“So tell me something else I need to know about you.” He tucked me into his side as we looked up at the star-lit sky.
“I hate my ankles.” I glanced down, giggling again.
“What?” He shot up, pulling up one leg of my skinny jeans to reveal my boney ankle. “These are the cutest ankles I have ever seen in my life.” He bent down and kissed each one.
“Stop,” I protested, though not very enthusiastically. “Your turn.”
He reassumed his position. “All right. I’m scared of how much I like you.”
“Same.”
“At least we’re in this together.” He chuckled, tightening his grip around my waist.
“I don’t want this night to end,” I spit out.
“I don’t either. It’s been an astonishing evening.”
“It doesn’t have to.” I rolled onto my side to look into Rhett’s gorgeous baby blues. “Come home with me tonight.”
“I don’t want to ruin things,” he muttered.
“We won’t.”
“As you wish, sweetheart.”
* * *
Wakingup in Rhett’s arms wasn’t weird like I worried it might be—it was perfect.
“Good morning, beautiful,” he mumbled while rubbing his sleepy eyes.
“Morning.” I pecked his stubble-covered cheek. “Coffee?”