Page 37 of Wait For Me

After being seated, it only took a moment to figure out what I wanted, so when the server came to get our drink orders I was already with my food order as well.

“I’ll have Pop’s Special and a water with lemon.”

Our waitress turned to Trench, who seemed shocked that I had ordered so decisively. “I’m getting Granny’s Finest and a sweet tea.”

“Okay, be right back with your drinks,” the older woman told us as she collected the menus and took off to put our order in.

“Why do you always order water with lemon?” Trench asked.

I stared at him a moment, considering this was our first time out, and then it hit me all over again. This man had eyes on me for the better part of a year while I was away from my family.

“I’m not a fan of soda, most sweet tea is too sweet for me, and water keeps me hydrated.” I shrugged my answer off, not wanting him to know how creepy I found it that he knew I ‘always’ ordered that as my drink of choice when I was out to eat.

“Never thought I’d see the day when there was a southern girl who thought sweet tea was too sweet.” He chuckled, but I just fidgeted with the dessert menu that was left on the table. Apple pie. Peach cobbler. Homemade ice cream. None of it sounded appetizing as I sat across from a man who already knew too much about me while I knew absolutely nothing about him.

“What’s your real name?”

“Mike. Michael Anderson.”

“And how old are you, Mike?”

He chuckled before answering. “I’m 25.”

“What’s so funny about that?”

“It wasn’t my age or the question. It’s just kinda trippy because in a weird way, I feel like you should already know this.”

“You were spying on my life, not the other way around.” My response was a little snippy, but he must have expected it because he simply nodded his head and smiled at me.

“It was my job to keep you safe,” he admitted.

“And how much of my life was reported back to people without my consent?”

His cheeks burned red then. “Is this going to be a problem for us, moving forward?”

“I’ll get over it,” I told him, though, getting over it didn’t necessarily mean that dating him would happen. It was just too weird in ways I didn’t want to think about.

After a bit of awkward silence, I finally decided to play the get-to-know-you game a little longer. “So, why join an MC? You have family there?”

“Nah. No family. I aged out of the system and a group home when I was eighteen. Joined the Army. Spent three years as a grunt, which was long enough to know that I did not want to keep doing that as a career. Got out and when I was looking for work, I ran into Grady. He told me to come check out the club and see if it was for me. Said if it was a good fit, I’d have a built-in family.”

“Your prospecting period must have sucked then, considering you never got to know that family you were trying to be a part of since you were off watching my back.”

“You’re part of the family.” He offered with a bit of a shrug. “I enjoyed the trip, and it gave me time to think about how I wanted my life to go. There was a bit of an adjustment after I got back though. It was strange being so closed in with so many people after being on the road.”

“You could have gone nomad,” I suggested.

“Yeah, but that would have defeated the purpose of being able to get close to people and forming that bond. It was an adjustment, not necessarily a bad thing.”

The rest of the dinner was spent with good food and small talk, but the pervading feeling for me was still one of discomfort. Trench seemed to be a decent guy, but I couldn’t get over the little slips where it was obvious that he knew way more about me than he should. When he handed me the mustard because I preferred to douse my burger in that particular condiment, or when he asked for more lemons as my water was refilled before I got the chance. It was just weird. Creepy. It was something that I definitely was not going to just get over, as I had tried to tell Mike at the beginning of our meal.

When we settled up the bill and left, he wanted to take me to a bar dancing, but that was something I was not feeling.

“How about a ride?” I asked. It would cut the conversation and I could close my eyes and pretend that he was someone else. It might have been wrong of me to do that, but it was what I’d have to do to enjoy the ride and be at peace.

Mike took me from Danville to Augusta where we grabbed the best milkshakes known to man from this little place I would have never known about. Apparently, Augusta is where Mike grew up, so it was one of those local delights that outsiders didn’t realize was right there.

By the time we got back, it was after midnight and my legs were jelly as I got off the motorcycle for the final time that night. I giggled after nearly stumbling back into the freaking hot ass fuck pipes of his Harley.

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