Page 31 of The Waiter at Table 6

“You should sign up for classes. Why not? If you want to try it, try it.”

And it’s so simple, that I can’t do anything but ingest the idea like air.

“Okay,” I whisper without hesitation.

Ryder’s smile is radiant at that response.

“First sharpshooting, then pole dancing. You’re a woman of many talents.”

I let out a nervous laugh. “I might be bad at it.”

He shrugs. “Who cares? Are you doing it to be good at it, or to experience it?”

I pause for a heartbeat. “That’s how you approach everything, isn’t it?”

“Damn right it is. Life’s too short to live in a box.”

Life’s too short to live in a box.

As we chat about random and inconsequential things, my brain keeps coming back to that. Because even though I knew my life before this was stifling, I never thought about how invigorating life could be outside of that box.

“You look like your head’s elsewhere,” Ryder says when we reach one of the taxi stands. “Everything okay up there?”

My attention jerks back to him, my cheeks warming. “Yeah. I’m sorry, I’ve been distracted the past few minutes. It’s not because of you, I promise.”

He shrugs, looking completely unoffended. “That’s okay. I like watching the gears whirl up there. Anything you want to share?”

I shake my head. “Not yet.”

Ryder’s smile warms me. “Okay, then.” Then, for the first time tonight, uncertainty touches his voice. “Will I…see you again this week?”

I’m nodding before I can tamp down on the eager reaction.

The wattage of his smile intensifies. But then his eyes drop to my lips, and it’s replaced by that fire once again.

He wants to kiss me. I can feel it in my bones. But he’s also a good man, so I know if anything is ever going to happen again, it’s going to be because I initiate it.

But I can’t. So instead of giving in to the urge to press my lips against his, I merely push up on my toes and brush a fleeting kiss against his cheek.

“Thank you for an amazing night,” I whisper. “I had the best time.”

That smile comes right back. “Good. I did too.” It takes him a second, but then he steps away and flags over one of the taxis. When one comes right over, he turns back to me. “Text me when you get home?”

I nod. “You too, please.”

“Yes, ma’am.” His gaze drops to my cheek, like he wants to return the kiss, but the taxi driver calls something from behind us and the moment is broken. With a sigh, I step around Ryder and reach for the door handle. He beats me to it, of course.

“Get her home safely, please,” he tells the driver as I get in.

And I realize…I love his balance of nurturing and empowering. He doesn’t smother me, he merely supports me while making sure I’m cared for. He’s the best of both worlds.

I don’t know how to make sense of that beyond knowing I want more of it.

9

VANESSA

When I walk into the pole dancing studio a few days later, it’s with trembling hands and nerves rushing through my veins.

---