Picture Perfect (Butler Island) by Nikki Rittenberry Read Free Book Online Page B

to open the door.
    “Hey there, you
ready?” she asked as she smiled .
    “Wow. You look”
— good enough to eat— “ pretty.”
    Damn it, Womack, get your mind out of
the gutter.
    “Thank you. You clean up pretty nice
yourself.”
    He couldn’t help but stare. Her
entire body was covered, the hem of her dress settled around her ankles; the
denim jacket covered her arms. But he knew what existed beneath the material: a
firm, yet feminine body. Visions of that mouthwatering figure, dressed in a
skimpy referee costume, had haunted him for days. “Um… let me just grab my keys
and we can—”
    “—Oh, there’s no need; I’m driving”,
she assured him confidently.
    Scratching the
stubble along his jaw, he studied her. “But you don’t know where we’re going.”
    “Not yet. But as soon as you tell me,
I will”, she countered playfully.
    After closing the door behind him he
took a step forward and reached for her hand. “Okay, I’m not going to argue
with you. Let’s get out of here.”
     
     
    Most of the small restaurants on the
island were rather casual and inexpensive. The kind of places you’d expect to
find a plastic checkered tablecloth, oversized booths, and a waitress that
didn’t hand you a menu because she already knew what you were going to order.
But Grant didn’t want to take Olivia to a place like that. He wanted to impress
her.
    They’d parked in the public lot and
started down the boardwalk. “So now will you tell me where we’re eatin’?” she
asked impatiently.
    Grant gestured toward the end of the
pier. “I’m taking you to Snapper’s.”
    “What…? Are you serious?”
    “Of course, I’m serious…”
    “I… I’ve never been there before—I’ve
always wanted to, though.”
    Reaching for her hand, he raised it
to his lips and kissed the soft skin along the back. “Well then, I guess
tonight is your lucky night…”
    They were seated outside along the
pier overlooking a fiery sunset, listening to the gentle waves collide against
the wood pilings beneath. The subtle coastal breeze on a determined voyage to
reach land.
     He observed as Olivia unfolded her
white cloth napkin and placed it gently in
her lap. “I hope this table is okay.”
    “This is perfect, Grant… Thank you.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    They ordered a bottle of red wine and
enjoyed a tray of oysters on the half shell before their entrees arrived. The
wind was beginning to pick up as the sun fulfilled its destiny and he couldn’t
seem to peel his eyes away from her as the gulf breeze gently tousled her honey-blonde locks. Her countless attempts to tuck her hair behind her ear, only to be disturbed by the wind
again, fascinating him.
     It was strangely… erotic . In
fact, his fingers were practically twitching at the thought of tangling them in
her hair.
    Damn it, Womack, what the hell’s the
matter with you?
    Well, wasn’t that the million dollar
question? Every simple, nonchalant thing she
did somehow turned him on: her hair blowing in the breeze, the way she
stuck her pinky finger out when she took a sip of wine, the way she licked
those pouty pink lips—
    “Kendall told me you’re Mr. Gibson’s
grandson. How come I never remember you comin’ to visit him?”
    “Probably because I didn’t.”
    “Oh. Is that because you lived far
away?” she asked as she dipped her bread into the clam sauce at the bottom of
her bowl.
    “No. I grew up in Pensacola.” He took
a sip of his wine, debating about how much detail he wanted to go into about
his past. It wasn’t something he talked about regularly, but somehow it seemed
easy to open up to her. Maybe it was the
adorable southern accent. Or maybe it was the intensity behind those
emerald eyes, delivering a message of comfort and understanding.
     “My grandpa and my parents didn’t
get along. They weren’t on speaking terms when he died five years ago…”
    Olivia reached
out and grabbed his hand across the table and gave it a squeeze.