Page 20 of The Oath We Take

For a heartbeat, I’m a little disappointed. I see potential in Rocco, but it’ll be hard to let the spark catch fire if he’s not around much. “You like to travel?”

“Who doesn’t love to travel? Seeing the world, experiencing new things. For work, getting on an airplane every week can get a little old, but I’m home more often than not.”

Okay. I can deal with that. After all, I work mainly evenings.

“Can I get you guys anything else?” our server asks.

Rocco looks at me. “You good?”

I nod. “I’m so full, you might need to roll me out of here.”

The bill comes, and I offer to split it, but Rocco refuses before paying it. And as we walk out of the restaurant, he does that palm-on-my-lower-back thing, which I low-key love.

Even as I note his hand isn’t quite as big as Atom’s.

When we step out into the night air, it’s still hot, thanks to the sun baking the sidewalk all day. But his manners continue as he opens my door and offers me his hand when I lower myself into the sporty ride.

I’m relieved the date has turned out this way, but I have shared my location with Quinn, just in case. She’s having a night in, reading. It’s her book club soon. While I have an open-ended invitation to join, I’d rather chew off my own fingernails. Reading bores me. If I have spare time, I’d rather be outside with my horse.

Plus, reading about those men who’d burn down the world for their women, while the man I want won’t even talk with my father, hits a jealousy nerve so strong that I want to throw the book at the wall.

As we pull up outside the rear entrance to my apartment, I have the conflicting emotions of being sad our evening is over but knowing myself well enough that I don’t want to invite him inside…yet.

Not when the kiss in the barn is still playing on repeat in my head.

It’s not fair to Rocco.

And I need to give myself a little grace while I reconcile getting a taste of something I know I’ll never have again.

“Wait there,” he says, bolting out of the car to race around the hood to open my door.

Again, he offers me his hand. It’s smooth. Not calloused and rough like Atom’s.

Jesus, Em! Just stop.

“Thanks for a lovely evening,” I say.

Rocco smiles. “Let me walk you to your door. My mom would never forgive me if I didn’t.”

There are two entrances to my apartment. One is behind the bar, a locked door up to the second floor, but if I go that way, I’ll never get through without questions and raised eyebrows as I lead a man up there behind me. So, we walk around the back to a small yard where I park my truck, and an exterior staircase leads to a small patio on the balcony and a door to the apartment.

He takes my hand, and we walk to the base of the stairs.

“I had a good time tonight,” I admit.

Rocco reaches out and touches a knuckle to my cheek. “Me too. I might be out of town for a few days on business, but I’ll call you when I’m back.”

“That would be nice.”

He leans towards me, slowly enough I have time to say no, but I don’t. I let his lips brush across mine. They’re tender and sweet, not aggressive, not seeking more. Just a gentle first kiss to end a nice evening.

“Ember Deeks?” The call of my name causes me to step back from Rocco as a shaved-headed man steps out of the truck parked on the street. His accent is Eastern European. And he’s the size of a horse. When he gets closer, I see the tattoos that cover his arms, the side of his neck, and up his skull. All religious icons. Jesus wearing the crown of thorns, a cross, and praying hands.

My heart lurches. Men with religious tattoos like his often do the most heinous things. I look up and down the street, and while there is still music and laughter coming from inside Whiskey Fever, it’s quiet around the rear entrance that has just enough space for my truck and the bar dumpsters.

“Who’s asking?” I say.

Rocco nudges me ever-so-slightly behind him. He’s a tall guy, but not as built as the man approaching us. A second man, wearing a leather jacket, climbs out of the driver’s side of the car. Equally big and strong, with a lot more hair.

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