Page 126 of Light My Fire

“We’re not interested in going anywhere else,” I say, trying to be cool and hoping they’re able to pick up on subtle ‘get the fuck out of here’ clues.

“That’s fine. We can get her home later.”

Well, I guess subtle is out.

I look the guy directly in the eye. He’s easily Brooke’s age. Maybe even younger. “Iwill be getting her home,” I say firmly.

The guy extends his hand. “Sir, I promise you that your daughter will be safe with us.”

Right. I should have expected that.

I take his hand, squeezing hard. “There’s no way in hell she’s going anywhere with you.” I pull a little on his arm, making him lean over the table. “You don’t go up to women in bars when they’re with other people and invite them to leave who they’re with to go somewhere with you. What the fuck are you thinking? She’d leave her dadorher boyfriend or even her boss or whoever she’s with to head out with you somewhere? Use your fucking head.”

I let go of him and look at the other guy. “Younevertry to separate a woman from who she’s out with, got it?”

He nods, eyes wide.

“And if a woman isalonein a bar and you want to talk to her and get to know her, youstayat that bar. You don’t take women to other places alone. Don’t be a fucking creep.”

I push him out of the way and reclaim my seat. I reach over and put my hand on the back of Brooke’s neck, pulling her close and kissing her. Then I look at the guys. “And don’t be assholes and assume an older guy is a woman’sdad. How about you ask some questions rather than jumping to conclusions?”

The guys look from me to Brooke, then back to me, then to Brooke.

“We just…”

“Sorry, man.”

“And I’m sorry to tell you that smart, gorgeous, mature women like Brooke are out of your league. They need older guys who know how to treat them,” I say, feeling every bit of the cockiness Brooke has stirred in me tonight.

Brooke leans into me, her hand on my leg. Not saying anything. Just looking very, very content. And beautiful. Always so fucking beautiful.

“Right. Fine,” the one guy says. “Sorry.”

They start to turn away, but I say, “Hey, treat the other women you meet tonight the way you want men to treat your sisters and friends and mom, okay? Don’t be assholes.”

They don’t say anything, but they nod.

As soon as they’re gone, Brooke looks up at me. “See? Amazing.”

“You’re just feeling like you won because I kissed you before the end of our date,” I say, removing my hand from her neck and straightening.

“Well, yes, there’s that,” she agrees, reaching for another fry. “But also just feeling really good about my taste in men.”

“Yeah?”

“Definitely. You were jealous but you turned that into a teaching moment for them. That was impressive.” She grabs another fry. “And really hot.”

I chuckle, but I’m feeling really good about everything as we finish eating and then head out into the night, hand in hand again.

We walk for a bit, talking about miscellaneous things—how we spent our last birthdays, what I like best about firefighting, what she’s nervous and excited about with her upcoming internship.

When we’re cold, she wants to go to another bar, but I talk her into heading home.

I could spend twenty-four-seven with her, I realize, and tonight did its job.

I want to keep dating Brooke.

There’s something real here.

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