“Hold on. I want to look,” I say, stopping Pepper as she heads for the door.
She frowns in confusion before understanding crosses her face. “The master’s degree? You really are serious?”
“Yeah, I at least want to look into it and see what all it requires.” I pluck a few informational flyers, and then we leave, heading back to where we parked, taking pictures at different buildings along the way.
I start the truck up and listen as Pepper sighs once the cool air hits her face. Her cheeks are flushed from the heat, and she reaches up to pull her hair down from the bun, combing her fingers through it before leaning back over to put it up again. I stare at the slender curve of the back of her neck, having the sudden urge to feel her soft skin on my lips, before she flips her head back over and shoots a heart-stopping smile at me.
“Where to now?”
“To the Flip Grill.” She pulls her purse into her lap and fishes out her lip gloss, which she applies while I watch and act like I’m not watching until she clears her throat and pointedly stares at me.
“Flip Grill. Got it.” I put the truck in drive and haul ass, knowing she definitely caught me staring. “Why are we going to the Flip Grill?”
“Job application,” she says with a smile and a small bounce on the seat. “I’ve never had an actual job before. I’m pretty excited about it. I was always so busy with Mom’s charity work, which was amazing, but whenever I asked about getting a job, she would look at me like I was crazy. I don’t want to rely on my parents’ money anymore though. I want to have my own money that I worked for.”
“Are your parents paying for your tuition?”
“Yes, but of course they think I’m going to Vanderbilt,” she says.
“Will you use that money to pay for culinary school?”
She doesn’t answer, and I look over to see her staring out the window.
“I’m tired of relying on someone else for everything in my life. I sold some stock I had in my family’s company, and I’m using that for tuition. I’m not touching the money they gave me. I want to know that I can make my own life and not have to ask my parents for money. I couldn’t even get an apartment by myself. I’m pathetic.” She wipes a hand down her face.
“Hey,” I say, reaching my hand over and laying it on her thigh before really thinking about what I’m doing.
We both freeze, and I can feel her gaze snap to my face. I keep my eyes on the road as I feel where my hand rests against her smooth leg, each of my fingers burning where they touch her skin. I slowly withdraw my hand and clear my throat, fighting the urge to shake my hand out and still the blood racing through it.
“You aren’t pathetic.” I pull into the parking lot of Flip Grill and stop the truck, finally daring to look at Pepper.
Her cheeks are flushed, and I can’t tell if she’s angry or not because I touched her without her permission.
“Thanks,” she says as she opens the door and jumps down. She turns to shut the door, and before it closes, she gives me a wink.
Well, fuck. What does that mean?
“This is the last place,” Pepper says, glancing up at the storefront before grabbing her purse and reaching for the door.
“It’s not a restaurant,” I say, eyeing the pottery shop with raised eyebrows.
“Aren’t you observant?” Pepper laughs and looks back at me. “Want to come in?”
“Might as well. I’m beginning to feel like your chauffeur.”
“If I had a chauffeur, I’d want it to be you,” Pepper says and hops down.
I follow her up to the door, holding it open for her to pass through, and I linger a little longer, sniffing the air to catch a whiff of her perfume as she moves by me. I see the pottery displayed on the shelves. There are families and couples and possibly what looks like a squad of sorority girls gathered around tables with paintbrushes, creating works of art. I’m totally out of my element.
I look up and realize Pepper is already chatting with a girl at the counter, talking a mile a minute. She grabs a piece of paper and makes her way back to me, smiling. I can’t help but answer her smile with one of my own. Electricity crackles through the air, and I wonder if she can feel it too. I’ve had girlfriends in the past, short-term and long-term, but thinking back, I can’t remember feeling like this about any of them, and I don’t know what that means.
“Ready to go?” she asks.
My eyes meet hers, and I quickly blink, hoping my thoughts aren’t evident on my face.
“Yep. Did you get what you needed?”
“Sure did,” she says, waving the paper around in the air and doing a little jump. “Isn’t this place the cutest? It would be perfect for a date night.”
She looks around, honing in on the couples. I give a noncommittal grunt, and she looks back to me.
“What? You don’t agree?”
“Didn’t say that,” I say with a shrug.
“Do you not date?”
“Not really anymore.”
“A man of many words,” she says again.
I crack a smile. “I’ve had girlfriends, if that’s what you’re asking.”
“Longest relationship?” She bumps me with her shoulder, and I look at her, furrowing my brow. “Wow. You really can’t remember?” She snorts.
“Probably Carmen Stanley in college. We dated for a year and a half.”
She nods and gives me a thoughtful look. “What happened?”
“We just didn’t mesh. I don’t know.”
“That’s a copout. Give me the real reason. I need the gritty details.” Pepper puts her hands out and curls her fingers back toward her, asking me to hand them over.
“She was more focused on herself and what she wanted, which was fine. I just didn’t feel like an important part of
