Free All Over You (Unforgettable You, Book 1.5) by Beverley Kendall Page B

up all reins of control and let them. Best thing I could have done because the end result is me looking good in snug low-rise jeans, an aqua-blue, three-quarter-length sleeved cropped sweater and April insisted I borrow her three-and-a-half inch, black boots with gorgeous ruche detail. Those are her words not mine.
    Scott can’t take his eyes off me when he picks me up an hour and a half later. His heated gaze drinks me in from head to toe and then back again. And I do my own perusing. Hot would be a mild understatement to how good he looks in dark brown chinos and a tan pullover that makes his shoulders look impossibly broad. On his dimpled jaw and angular cheekbones are the beginnings of a five o’clock shadow. He knows how much that turns me on, which is a clear indication that he doesn’t intend to play fair. The bum. Although I’m not sure I wouldn’t do the same thing if our positions were reversed.
    “ You look good,” he says, his gaze holding mine, his voice deliciously low.
    “ So do you.” Why am I now feeling shy around him? I haven’t felt this way since the first time he drove up to see me after we met at Warwick.
    After an awkward kiss on the cheek, we say goodbye to April and Olivia and head to his car.
    Twenty minutes later, we endured a quiet ride to the next town over and are seated at a booth near the back of the Cheesecake Factory. Let’s just say that it will take us time to get back to the ease we once shared. Conversation had come in snatches between the overwhelming silence.
    Scott waits until our waitress—too perky and cute for my liking, especially the not-so-subtle way she’s been eyeing my boyfriend—sashays away, before giving me his exclusive attention.
    “ Feel like old times?” he asks with a lift of his brow.
    Yeah, except my nerves are shot and a gazillion butterflies feel like they’ve taken refuge in my stomach no matter how many times I remind myself that this is just Scott. The same guy I’ve kissed hundreds of times, had sex with and, by the time I’d broken it off, had actually been pretty comfortable with him seeing me naked…with the lights on. Okay, so we haven’t been together for a year but still, I shouldn’t be this nervous. For crying out loud, we had sex two weeks ago.
    “ Maybe. Kind of.” If he means old times like when we first met, then yes. I’d been a bundle of nerves back then too.
    At my reply, he nods and offers a faint smile as if he understands although he doesn’t seem the least bit nervous himself. But when has he ever? Oh yeah, the time I told him I was pregnant. I immediately push that memory from my thoughts. We’re starting over. Kind of.
    “ My mom was here back in April. She wanted to see you.”
    He stills and his eyes go wide as he stares at me.
    “ You didn’t tell her that you—we broke up?”
    “ Yeah, she knows. But you know how much she liked you. Still does.” My free-thinking mother who lives the live and let live philosophy adores Scott. Thinks he’s the best thing that ever happened to her boy-crazy daughter. Before Scott, I fell in and out of love at the drop of a dime. Every guy I crushed on was the love of my life. After Scott, I’d pretty much found it impossible to truly get into any guy. That’s how I’ve partitioned my life, before Scott and after Scott, which makes him on par with Jesus, right? Not.
    “ I really like your mom,” he says, his expression going all soft like he’s thinking back to all the time he spent in our cramped apartment, then our house when my mom could finally afford to buy one, which had only been a year and a half ago. “Have you told her about us?”
    I shake my head. “Not yet.”
    “ Why not?”
    “ First of all we only got back together like three days ago. Anyway, I want to wait, you know, give it some time in case…. Well you know.”
    His expression hardens against me. “What? In case it doesn’t work out?” His voice has taken on a clipped tone.
    What the hell?