The week had been perfect, and today would make or break us. I needed to either move forward or move on—her answer this afternoon would determine which direction I went at the crossroad before me. I could only pray our paths were the same.
“Are we on a timetable?”
“Not really, we have reservations at eight-thirty tonight. Nothing’s set in stone prior. Why?”
I stood and gathered the plates from the table, but before I could get more than a couple steps away, she latched onto the waistband of my shorts and pulled me back to her. “I want to take our time getting cleaned up.” Her expression hinted at mischief, yet when she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, it turned erotic.
The dishes could wait.