Wheel You Marry Me?

CHAPTER 9.

"Lavender? You smell like it," Ryan said as we entered his car.

"That's my shampoo," I replied, buckling in.

"You smell good," he said, flashing a smile before starting the engine.

Great. My heart skipped. That was definitely not helping with the awkward tension between us. He kept glancing at me during the drive, and I could feel every stare like it was physically burning into my skin.

"When was the last time you had steak?" he suddenly asked, as if it was the most natural question in the world.

"What?" I blinked at him. That came out of nowhere.

"I asked when the last time you had steak was," he repeated, more clearly this time.

"Uh... I don't remember, honestly."

"Okay, we're going for dinner," he said, turning the wheel and heading down a different road.

"What? No! No, I'm not having dinner with you," I protested, louder than I intended.

Oh God. That came out so wrong.

I immediately covered my mouth, wishing I could take it back. He stopped the car and turned to look at me, his face suddenly just inches from mine. His breath was warm, and it smelled faintly of mint and cinnamon.

"I don't bite," he said with a smirk. "So don't be scared of me."

My heart was now thundering in my chest. He started the car again, leaving me stunned in silence.

We pulled up in front of Rich Tables, the most talked-about restaurant in town. The kind of place celebrities, business moguls, and socialites went to. I had never even stepped inside.

"You brought me here?" I whispered.

"You said you didn't remember the last time you had steak. Let's fix that," he said casually.

Inside, soft jazz played under the hum of quiet conversations. Everything glowed, a blend of candlelight, chandeliers, and polished silverware. We were greeted by a waiter in a black vest who led us to a cozy corner table.

I stared at the menu. Everything looked expensive... and French.

"Do you need me to order for you?" Ryan asked, reading my expression perfectly.

"Yes, please," I said, embarrassed.

When the waiter returned, Ryan ordered smoothly. "She'll have the garlic rosemary steak with sherry cream sauce. I'll take the filet mignon. For drinks, sparkling limeade for the lady. I'll have the Cabernet Sauvignon."

He handed the menus back without even glancing at them.

Wait—sparkling limeade? I looked at him.

He caught my gaze and grinned. "What? You don't drink, right?"

I tilted my head. "How did you know that?"

"I pay attention," he said simply.

The food arrived quickly, and the smell alone made my mouth water. One bite in and I was in heaven. The steak was perfectly tender, buttery, with just the right kick of garlic.

"Are you enjoying your food?" he asked, watching me.

I nodded quickly. "Yes. This is... honestly the best steak I've ever had. Thank you."

"Don't mention it," he said, sipping his wine. "So, how did you start helping my grandma?"

I wiped my mouth before answering. "I saw her one day struggling to take out the trash. I helped her, and we started talking. She was so sweet... I just kept coming back."

"She talks about you every day," he said.

I blinked. "Really? What does she say?"

"That you're kind. Sweet. Beautiful. She said you have a lovely voice, too."

I blushed, actually blushed in front of Ryan Tyler. I tried to hide it behind my glass.

"She's a great woman," I said softly. "I'm glad she has you now."

He sighed. "My mom's not too happy about her. They... don't have the best history."

"I'm sorry," I said, unsure what else to offer.

"It's fine." He waved it off, then leaned forward slightly. "Enough about me. How's your family?"

I tilted my head. "You want to know about my family?"

He gave me a half-smile. "Yes, Aurora. I do."

"They're good. Um, my mom started painting again." I winced. I didn't mean to say that.

But he looked interested. "Really? She's an artist?"

"Sort of. She used to be. Before... you know... life happened."

"Then she's strong," he said. "You are too. I can tell."

I looked away, heart fluttering for reasons I didn't want to explore.

After dinner, he paid without hesitation, and we walked back to the car. The night air was crisp, and the stars were brighter than usual.

"Tonight was great. I like Elodie," he said as we drove.

"She's the sweetest," I replied.

He turned to me, eyes soft. "Like you."

That shut me right up.

When we reached my house, he parked gently. I fumbled with the seatbelt, my fingers suddenly useless. Then his face leaned close to mine again. That same fire from earlier returned, burning just beneath my skin.

His hand reached up and touched my face, fingertips grazing my cheek.

"You know..." he murmured, "I'd really like to kiss you right now."

I didn't answer. Couldn't. I just sat there, breath caught in my throat.

He didn't wait for permission—his lips brushed against mine, soft at first, hesitant, but sure. His hand slid into my hair, fingers threading through my curls, and his lips became more demanding. I touched his jawline, feeling the tension there as he kissed me. There was a mix of wine and warmth on his tongue, and my whole body felt like it was humming.

Then—

Knock. Knock.

A loud tap on the window broke the moment like glass shattering.

I gasped and jerked back. My heart practically jumped into my throat.

Outside the car window stood my mum.

Ryan pulled away immediately, clearing his throat. I scrambled to unbuckle my seatbelt, feeling like I was caught stealing the Mona Lisa.

I opened the car door, stepping out like I hadn't just been kissed breathless.

"Hello, Mum," I said as casually as I could manage.

She raised an eyebrow. "Why don't you invite that young man inside?"

I glanced at Ryan, then back at her. "Um... Ryan was just leaving."

His amused smile said otherwise, but he nodded respectfully toward my mum. "Nice to see you again, ma'am."

"Drive safe," she said, folding her arms and giving me a look I couldn't quite decode.

I stood there on the porch as I thought he would drove off, heart still racing, lips tingling.

What just happened?