Page 23 of Caged Heat

“Sorry. You can walk me to it later,” I teased, smiling wider at his shocked expression. August cleared his throat and gave a hearty chuckle before placing his hand on the small of my back.

“I’m holding you to that promise, dove.”

My stomach flipped at the term of endearment, the care and emotion he held for me evident each time he uttered it. I glanced up at his face; the need to reassure myself this was the same quiet and serious man I’d known forever. And while outwardly, the man before me was still the August I knew; something was different about him.

His eyes were more alive, like a spring meadow, with a brightness I’d never noticed before. Beneath his beard, I could make out the slightest hint of pink on his cheeks, the rose color contrasting his natural darker skin tone. And though I knew it was impossible, the tattoos on his arms seemed even more in focus, the ink darker and sharper.

August stood a couple heads taller than me, probably making him just over six feet tall. His raven hair was thick with a slight wave, and his salt-and-pepper beard was trimmed around his face. He stopped on the sidewalk when he noticed my perusal of him and turned so I could take him in further. He’d changed out of the black band t-shirt he had on earlier and now wore a dark gray henley that hugged his well-earned muscles. The sleeves were scrunched up to his elbows, giving me a delicious view of his forearms in all their tattooed glory. The dark jeans he wore hugged his thighs and outlined his ass in a way that made me wonder how I’d never ogled it before.

I was cognizant enough to know he hadn’t magically transformed into the sexy man in front of me just by changing his shirt. No, it had to be that for the first time since I’d known him, I was finally really seeing him. My eyes were open, the blinders off and I could see the people around me in all their glory.

“Everything okay?” he asked after I stood there staring at him and not saying anything.

“How old are you?” My face flamed, and I covered my mouth, shocked I’d said that aloud.

“Fifty-two. Is that a problem?” August lifted one eyebrow with all the patience in the world while he waited for me to get my shit together.

“No. Of course not. I’m just having an epiphany or something. Until this afternoon, it was like I never actually saw you for the attractive man you are.”

August’s lips curved up slightly, and he stepped forward. One hand took mine in his, the rough calluses a pleasant contrast against my skin. The other gripped my hip, squeezing it as he stepped into my space so I had to tilt my head back to see him. His larger frame blocked out the setting sun, making his sage green eyes the only thing I could see.

“I’m glad you’re seeing me now, dove. This will be where our story begins.”

Sucking in a breath at the emotion in his words, I gave a barely there nod, too worried I’d say something else to embarrass myself. August gave a dark chuckle, moving his hand to the small of my back and pushing me toward his car. The heat of his hand seared the skin there, leaving an August-sized handprint in his wake.

A large dark purple car sat in my driveway, and I paused, again realizing I hadn’t even known what type of car August drove.

“This is yours?” I asked stupidly as he unlocked the door.

“Hope so. Otherwise, our date will end far too soon if I’m arrested for stealing it.”

My cheeks heated at his dry words; another chuckle escaping him as he opened the door. I liked hearing him laugh.

“Relax, Nora. You might not know everything about me, but you know me. Everything else, well, I’m told that’s what dates are for.”

I nodded, relaxing as I climbed into the car. August shut the door and walked to the driver’s side while I admired the interior. Everything was clean and shiny, making me believe he took pride in his car.

“What kind of car is this?” I asked once he’d climbed in. His large hands paused on the wheel, and he turned toward me.

“It’s a 1967 Impala. I’ve restored it all.”

“Wow. That’s cool, August.”

His shoulders dropped a little, and he nodded, placing his arm on my seat as he pulled out. “I thought you were going to make a comment about it being the wrong color,” he grumbled.

“Wrong color? I like the purple.”

He huffed as he put the car into drive, his arm brushing against mine in the center.

“Yes, well, most people only know this car from that TV show,” he grumbled, taking offense to whatever this show was.

“Oh. Sorry. I don’t have time to watch much TV. Between working and school, I didn’t have free time. It’s strange now to find myself with it.”

“Is that why you demanded the date be tonight?” he asked, glancing over at me.

“Oh. No, that wasn’t it.” I turned and glanced out the window, wringing my hands in my lap. How did you tell the man you were currently on a date with that you were trying to avoid another man?

Right on cue, my phone buzzed in my purse again, and I tensed until it stopped. August was quiet as he drove, the radio a low hum in the background. It didn’t feel awkward, though, almost like he was giving me time to calm down and adjust to being in an enclosed space with him.

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