Page 8 of Reacher's Ride or Die

He shrugged, “I guess a part of me didn’t believe that you’d show up tonight. I mean, you had to tell Gloria that you would, but you didn’t have to follow through if you didn’t want to have dinner with me.”

“Why wouldn’t I want to have dinner with you, Reacher?” she asked.

He shrugged again, and the way that he looked down at his hands instead of at her, nearly broke her heart. “I guess that I haven’t been on a date in a long time, and I just expected that you’d bail. But I’m really glad that you’re here, Brandi,” he almost whispered.

She smiled at him, taking a few steps closer to close the space between them. “I’m glad that you’re here too, Reacher.” He got off his bike and offered her his hand. Everything about Reacher was a surprise to her. He seemed gruff and grumpy one minute, and sweet and caring the next. Maybe that was what appealed to her, but then, she thought that she had found that with Jarrod, but she was wrong.

“So, this is your favorite Italian place?” Reacher asked. He was making small talk, and that worked for her. Brandi was just as nervous as he was about having dinner together. Honestly, appeasing Gloria wasn’t the only reason why she had agreed to go out to dinner with Reacher. She was curious about him. He was hot, and a part of her wanted to get to know him better.

“I love this place,” she admitted. “My, um, ex used to bring me here, but I haven’t been here for years now.”

“So, you asked me to come to dinner with you at a place your ex-boyfriend used to bring you to?” Reacher asked.

“No,” she almost shouted, “it’s not like that. My ex-husband used to bring me here when we were married.” They had only known each other for days now, and here she was spilling her guts to him. Brandi could blame it on the glass of wine that she had before leaving her apartment, but she had a feeling that it had more to do with the man who was standing next to her. She could tell that Reacher was itching to ask her questions, and she knew that she’d answer them for him. Brandi was the one who started telling him her sad story, so why not finish it?

“Go ahead,” she said, “ask me your questions.”

“Okay—how long were you two married?” Reacher asked.

“Jarrod and I were married for about four years,” she admitted. “I was young and stupid.”

“We’ve all been there,” Reacher said.

“Thank you for that,” she said. “I felt like a fool when I found out that he had been screwing his secretary since before we were even married. I saw the red flags but ignored them because I wanted to believe that I had made the right decision—but I hadn’t.”

“I’m sorry,” Reacher said.

“Not your fault. It took me years of therapy to realize that it wasn’t my fault either, but I did with time. I was lucky to get out of my marriage with my clothes on my back. Jarrod shut me out of the house and our bank account when I told him that I wanted a divorce. I survived by sleeping on my friend’s couches and got a job at a fast-food place to make enough money to eat. After a settlement was reached, I got my apartment and was able to put myself through nursing school and Jarrod married his slut of a secretary and has three kids. I heard that he’s pretty miserable, and well, that just makes me feel like it was all worth it.” She smiled and Reacher did the same, but it didn’t reach his eyes.

“I’m sorry that you had to go through all of that,” he admitted.

Brandi shrugged, “I’m a better person for having gone through everything that I did. I learned to be on my own, and that was pretty awesome. Today, I filed my finalized divorce papers today before I went over to Gloria’s,” she admitted. “I guess I just needed to be around people, because sitting at home and wondering if I had made the right decision, isn’t my style.”

“Did you tell Gloria about your trip to the courthouse?” he asked.

“Um, no,” she admitted, “I didn’t want to burden her. She’s already going through enough.” The hostess met them at the front desk and told them to follow her back to the table.

“That’s very sweet of you,” he said, “you know, worrying about Gloria like you do.”

“Why is it if a woman says a guy’s sweet, he goes on about how she’s wrong, but if a man says that a woman is sweet, we’re just supposed to accept it?”

“Okay, never mind. I take back my assessment of you, Brandi. You aren’t sweet at all,” he said, smiling at her. She rolled her eyes at him before the waiter came over to take their drink orders. Brandi ordered a martini, and he ordered a double scotch. They sat there quietly, each waiting for the other to speak first, and when the drinks arrived at the table, she almost breathed out a sigh of relief.

They both ordered their meals, and she sat back in the booth, sipping her martini. “I am sweet, though,” she insisted, picking up the topic again.

“You really like to stir the pot, don’t you?” he asked. She had heard one of the women on the reality television show that Gloria loved to watch say that. She accused another woman on the show of liking to stir the pot, and that saying just stuck with her for some reason. Reacher must have had to watch a goodamount of reality television with Gloria and that thought made her smile.

“Kind of,” she admitted. “I never really thought about it that way, but I do like to cause a bit of trouble.”

Reacher barked out his laugh, “I’m betting that you like to cause more than just a little bit of trouble, honey.” She looked down at the white tablecloth on the table, feeling very shy all of a sudden. Jarrod used to call her “Honey," and she hated that pet name that he used for her. But for some strange reason, hearing Reacher call her that, made her tummy do a little flip-flop.

“Are you okay?” Reacher asked.

“Yes,” she whispered, clearing her throat. “My ex used to call me honey, and well, that was the first time that I’ve been called that since he kicked me out of our home.”

“I’m sorry,” he said, “would you rather I not call you that?”

“No, I like it when you call me honey, Reacher. You just caught me a bit off guard.” She was screwing their dinner all up, and Brandi wondered if he might just want to call it an evening.

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