Page 51 of Tell Me It’s Right

I scowl. “No.”

He nods. “Liam.”

I swallow a mouthful of beer. “Hm?”

“She doesn’t need a bodyguard.”

I say nothing.

“She can handle herself. I’m sure she’s fine. In fact, I don’t think this has anything to do with you being worried about her.”

I scoff. “You’re way off base, man.”

He stares at me for a moment like he can see right through me, but I see it in his eyes the moment he decides against whatever he was going to say. He nods to the side instead. “I could use some help with the deck out back if you want to hammer some shit.”

That actually sounds like exactly what I need.

Chapter Eighteen

GRACIE

Miles was right about one thing. The food is divine. And the more I drink the wine, the more I like it.

The more bearable the whole night becomes.

The conversation comes a little easier the later we get into the night, though we mostly just talk about the food and other places he likes around town.

There’s also a good chance my expectations are unreasonably high from my reading habits. Maybe this is what dating is like.

I try not to acknowledge how soul-crushing that prospect is.

It feels twice as cold when we leave, and I wrap my arms around myself as I follow Miles to his car. He staggers a bit as he weaves for the driver’s side, and my steps slow. He hadn’t seemed that drunk in the restaurant, but he…he wouldn’t drive me home if he wasn’t okay, right?

The wind picks up, and I shiver as my teeth start chattering. It’s enough to spur me forward and climb in. I bite my tongue to keep from asking if he’s good to drive as he starts the car. Would that be offensive to ask? Is it stupid not to?

“You really do look gorgeous tonight,” he says as he pulls out of the parking lot in a perfectly straight line and acceptable speed.

My shoulders relax. “Thank you. And thank you for dinner.”

Fortunately, he hadn’t let me look at the bill when it arrived.

“Of course. I’m glad you liked it.” He reaches over and squeezes my knee.

Then he leaves his hand there.

I stare at his fingers on my bare thigh as he merges onto the main road, frozen in my seat. Maybe if the date had gone better, I would be thrilled at this revelation, but right now, his hot, meaty hand feels like dead weight against my leg, and the longer it sits there, the stronger the urge to fling it off becomes.

I focus on the night sky out the window. The stars are so bright out here. If the wind didn’t make it so cold, I could just lie outside and stare at them for hours.

Miles flexes his fingers against my thigh, and I stiffen.

“It’s a beautiful night, isn’t it?” he offers.

I hum my agreement.

“I swear no one else is ever on this road,” he adds. “Always so quiet.”

I haven’t noticed many other cars on the two-lane highway—not now or on the way here. The restaurant is one town over, and there’s not a lot in between.

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