Page 22 of I Am Sin

I turn around. “What?”

“I’d like to take you out to dinner.” A small burst of pink rushes onto his cheek. “You know, in appreciation for what you’re doing for me.”

I cock my head. Is he serious? Does he really think one dinner is going to pay for a room in my penthouse?

But when I look into his eyes, I see something there. He wants to do this. Perhaps it’s all hecando.

“That’s not necessary,” I say.

“I know.” He shoves his hands into his pockets. “If you want to turn me down, I totally get it. I brought in groceries. I can make myself a sandwich. But I’d like to do this, and believe me, I won’t be asking you again. Not until I get a steady stream of income coming in.”

He looks sincere, and damn, his eyes are beautiful.

Every time I talk to him—which has only been a few times back at my parents’ home on the western slope when the band’s played at their parties—I can’t help but notice his eyes. So magnificent and breathtaking but always laced with a bit of sadness. As if there’s something inside him that he doesn’t talk about, doesn’t even think about. Yet it’s always there, an undertone in everything else he is.

I smile. This time it’s not so forced. “Okay. Where do you want to go?”

“There’s this great little diner a couple of blocks down. I went there sometimes during rehab.” He presses his lips together. “Once I was allowed to leave, that is. I know it’s not what you’re used to, but?—”

I hold up a hand to stop him. “That sounds lovely. When do you want to leave?”

He pulls his phone out of his pocket. “It’s five o’clock. Now would be a good time since it’s Saturday night. We’ll probably beat the crowds.”

“All right. Let me change.”

“You don’t need to change. You look great.”

“I’m in sweats.” I let out a soft chuckle. “I’ll change.”

He frowns and looks down at the shirt he’s wearing. “You want me to change?”

“God, no. You look great. I’m just going to throw on some jeans and a nicer shirt. I won’t be but a minute.”

I leave him standing there and walk to my master bedroom.

It’s about twice the size of Dragon’s room. I feel like I should have given him the larger second bedroom.

But he seems fine. He even seems grateful, though he has trouble saying it. Buying me dinner will probably take all the spare cash he has, which is part of the reason why I didn’t want him to do it. The other part is that it’s going to be so awkward.

But it seems important to him, and I do want to help. Brianna thinks this is where he should be, and though part of me believes that’s due to her being a little dick-whipped and wanting to do anything for her new husband, another part knows my sister. She’s young and vivacious and a little full of herself sometimes, but she’s also a genuinely kind person.

I head into my walk-in closet, grab a pair of straight-leg jeans and, instead of a blouse, I choose a V-neck sweater. It’s October, and the weather is a bit brisk today. I throw some suede booties on my feet, grab a light jacket, and I’m ready to go.

I walk out, head to Dragon’s door, but then hear his voice.

“I’m over here.”

He’s in the large living area, sitting on my leather couch.

Again, I’m struck by how good he looks. What a handsome man he is, even with his long hair.

He took it out of its band, and it’s floating around his shoulders in stark contrast to the white stripes on his shirt.

“Don’t you want to wear a jacket?” I ask.

“I was good when I went out to the market earlier.”

“Okay, if you say so. But it’s a little brisk.”

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