A soup course came next—both the salad and soup were delicious, as were the homemade rolls prepared by Harper’s grandma—so when the main course finally rolled around, Tate was pretty full of food and beer. Oh, and Wren. Beautiful, nonsnarky, teaching-him-how-to-be-a-classy-dude Wren. She instructed him on which piece of silverware to use next, whether he should pass to the left or right, and how much butter he should slather on the warm roll he’d attempted to slice open with a knife. That was a no go, according to Wren. “Rip it open with your hands,” she instructed him, demonstrating with her own roll. He’d like to rip something open with his hands—like her dress. Or hey, her panties would be fun to rip open. Would she ever let him try something like that? Probably not, so he’d have to settle for the fantasy instead. There were little candles on the table and the overhead chandelier was dimmed low. The light was mellow, as was the mood. All Tate could hear was the clink of silverware on very thin, white plates with little pink roses dotting the edges.
What do You think about Torch: The Wildwood Series?
