“You need practice dating. I could help.” He shrugs. “No pressure. No commitment. Just proving it’s possible to have a good time with a friend.”
A friend—someone safe and harmless to my heart.
I stare at him. “You’re joking, right?”
“I wouldn’t joke about this. We could even go to a public place together if that makes you feel safer.”
Most guys would be focused on convincing me they’re fun or interesting, but Lucian’s defense is that he’s trustworthy.
And that’s my issue.
“Think about it,” he begins, not pressuring me at all. “You already know where I live. And with me, what you see is what you get—even when I’m sweaty and covered in sawdust—so there’s nowhere to go but up.”
I can’t tell him that seeing him sweaty and covered in sawdust was actually incredibly attractive.
I blink, stunned that he’s actually serious about this proposal. “Does this mean you’re my dating coach?”
“If you want me to be,” he says, studying my face. “Though I have to ask what exactly you think you need to practice—because from where I’m standing, you seem to have the basics covered.”
I let out a nervous laugh. “Are you kidding? I can barely string two coherent sentences together. Case in point: ‘Hi-ho’ was my greeting to you. No one wants to date the Seven Dwarfs.”
He tilts his head, considering this. “I don’t know. Snow White seemed pretty happy with them. And for the record, your ‘Hi-ho’ was actually kind of cute.”
“Well, I feel like I’ve forgotten how to make conversation that doesn’t revolve around cupcake orders,” I admit. "Besides, you probably have women lining up to go out with you.”
“Not really,” he says quietly, before looking back at me. “You want to know what dating a good man looks like? I could show you.”
My pulse skips a beat. “Show me how?”
“Well, we’re alone. We’ve got time now.” He pauses. “What if I gave you a quick demonstration, just so you know what to expect?”
Something flutters in my stomach. “A demonstration?”
“Just the basics. How a guy should treat you, what good conversation feels like, how to read the signals. Think of it as a preview of coming attractions.”
This is definitely not what my friends had in mind when they said to flirt with Lucian.
Or maybe it is.
“Okay,” I say before I think better of it. “Show me.”
He catches my gaze while my heart dives off a cliff.
“If this were a date,” he says, “the first thing I’d do is make sure you felt comfortable. That starts with eye contact.”
His gaze remains on mine, never wavering. “Most people are afraid to really look at someone, but eye contact is everything. It shows you’re present, that you’re interested in the person, not just waiting for your turn to talk.”
I find myself caught in his impossibly blue eyes, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
“Then, if the moment feels right…” He reaches toward me, his fingers brushing mine. “Small touches. Like this.”
I almost can’t breathe as he gently takes one of my hands.
“Most people rush through moments like these,” he says, his voice low. “But the small touches matter. They tell you everything.”
“Like what?”
“Like whether someone’s patient or impulsive.” His thumb starts stroking slowly over my skin. “Or whether they’re paying attention to how you respond.”
I swallow hard, failing to hide that I’m totally entranced by this.
“What else?” I ask, not even caring if this is real or not. I’m here to practice—to master the art of whatever this is between us.
He moves closer still. “Proximity,” he murmurs. “Letting someone into your space. Reading their response. And not moving away.”
He’s closer than ever now, and for one wild moment, I see him differently—not like someone I’m practicing with, but someone I’d actually want this to be real with.
“And then?” I ask, my voice barely audible.
His eyes graze down my face for just a second. The corner of his mouth quirks up. “And then…you always leave them wanting more.”
