Page 22 of Haunted

“How old is Jett?”

“He’s almost sixteen. I’m twenty-two.”

Damn.

We steamrolled through the remainder of the lunch and early dinner rush without any major mishaps; laughing and carrying on as if we’d known each other for years rather than a couple of hours. Maybe it was because we both shared less than stellar childhoods that I found myself revealing bits and pieces of my past with her; excluding my time at Marshall. I wasn’t ready to go there yet.

When six o’clock rolled around without a word from Keaton, disappointment rolled around in my belly like a tidal wave, though I shouldn’t have been surprised. His job was important, way more important than keeping a promise to some girl he’d just met.

Stepping out into the cool evening air, I startled when I saw him leaning up against a black SUV on the curb.

“I texted,” his deep voice cut through the slight breeze, “but since I didn’t hear anything back from you, I thought maybe you’d changed your mind.”

“Crap.” Reaching into the back pocket of my jeans, Ipulled out my phone…my very dead phone. “I forgot to charge it.”

Pushing off the vehicle, he snatched the cheap plastic device out of my hand. “Christ. I forgot you had this piece of shit.”

“Hey! Give it back.”

“I didn’t think they still made flip phones.” He eyed it reverently; opening and closing the front multiple times before apologizing, then holding it out for me.

“So if you thought I’d changed my mind, why show up here?”

Catching our reflection out of my periphery in the front window, which ran the length of Over Easy, I felt tiny in comparison to his large, muscular frame. The size difference alone was almost comical, yet instinctively I knew he’d never use it to his advantage in a harmful way.

“I was prepared to beg.” He shrugged.

A howl of laughter escaped my mouth before I could stop it as I imagined him on his knees…begging. Those thoughts quickly turned X-rated as I pictured him on his knees for a whole other reason.

“I’d love to know what caused that pretty blush just now, baby, but it appears we have an audience.”

Turning my head to the left, I saw he was correct. Shirley, Betsy, and Mitzy had plastered themselves so close to the window, their mingled breaths were fogging up the glass. I wiggled my fingers at them, in a sort of half-wave, then rolled my eyes when they returned my gesture with two thumbs-up each.

“Seems we have their approval. Shall we?” Keaton held out his arm, slightly bent.

Wrapping my hand near his elbow, I gazed into his ebony eyes when I replied, “Absolutely.”

After ushering me into the passenger seat of his SUV and asking my preference for dinner, we took the short drive to Gino’s, a small pizzeria. I’d never been there before, however Keaton said they made the best deep-dish he’d ever eaten and if the aromas coming from the kitchen were anything to go by, he wasn’t wrong. We ordered a large pepperoni, half with mushroom, two waters, and a side salad for each of us to start. The waitress placed our drinks, along with a large plastic container filled with fresh greens, cherry tomatoes, sliced cucumbers and onions, and two smaller bowls plus a pitcher of house dressing on the table, before she moved on to the next customer. I was starving, so I reached for the tongs, heaping a healthy size portion in both our dishes before slathering mine in the creamy goodness.

“Hungry?” Keaton chuckled.

Holding up one finger, I finished chewing what was in my mouth before answering. “Very. Sorry, I probably should’ve waited. I’m not very good with this kinda stuff.”

“What kinda stuff?” He took a bite of his salad.

“Whatever this” —waving my hand with the fork back and forth between us; flinging a tomato across the table in the process—“is. See? Jesus! What is wrong with me?”

Scrambling, I tried to snatch the little red demon vegetable before it rolled off the table, only to have my fingers grasped between his.

“Henley, baby, look at me.” I did, which was a huge mistake. I became enthralled by how his facial hair curved downward to match the intense expression on his face and the way his gaze narrowed on mine, like I was the only thing he saw. It was—no—hewas mesmerizing. “It’s just the two of us here. I told you I wanted to know everything about you. If that includes you being a klutz, then it’s better I findout on our first date so I can invest in bubble wrap before our second.”

Holy shit.

Breathing became nearly impossible as his words bounced around in my head; the implications bringing hope to my wounded soul. Not only did he consider this a date, he was already thinking about a repeat.

“As much as I’ve dreamed of getting my lips on you, Little Bird…” He squeezed my hand. “…giving you mouth-to-mouth is not what I had in mind. Take a breath.”

The demanding tone penetrated my momentary panic. Inhaling deeply through my nose, oxygen poured into my lungs, easing the growing tightness in my chest.

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