Page 49 of That One Night
“Do you mind if I open the window?” she asked.
“Works for me,” he told her. “Nature’s air conditioning beats man’s.”
So she did. And the image of her sitting in his truck, her hair lifting in the breeze, her lips singing along, seared itself into his vision.
And into his brain. Permanently.
As a kid he’d been a punk. The kind of annoying little shit that made his brother’s lives hell. And then, as a teenager, those hormones had surged like a damn tsunami. He’d discovered his looks, that girls liked his swagger, his self assurance.
But most especially they liked his driver’s licence and his ability to borrow his older brothers’ trucks.
Friday nights were date nights. And he dated his way through town. Until that day when everything changed, and he became a social pariah. No self respecting parent would let their daughter go out with him after that.
He was known as the wild one. The dangerous one. The one good girls avoided.
And Emery was a good girl. He had no doubt about that. She’d worked hard during school, dated one guy, got her college degree, and gotten engaged.
Their roads couldn’t be anymore different.
“How’s the tattoo?” he asked her, trying to break the silence. And ignore the weird sensation in his chest that happened every time he looked at her.
She looked down at her ankle. “It’s so pretty. It makes me smile every time I look at it.”
He swallowed, becausehersmile madehimsmile. And wasn’t that all kinds of messed up?
“They say it’s addictive. You gonna get another one?”
She laughed lightly. “That kind of pain is definitely not addictive. I’m all about the pleasure.”
Her cheeks pinked up, the way they always did when she said something she kind of regretted. He was getting to know her. Starting to learn her tells, the way a poker player could watch your face and figure out what kind of hand you had.
“Me too,” he murmured, pulling into the town square. “And here we are. Welcome to the pleasure dome.”
There was a parking space right to the left of the bar, and he pulled in, cutting off the engine. The place was already busy. It always was on a Friday night. Full of workers spending their paychecks and wanting to relax after a hard week.
Full of guys wanting to find a woman without having to swipe on a damn phone app.
The low hum of music escaped through the door as they walked toward it. And yeah, his hand was soft on her back again, because the urge to protect her was strong.
“I’m gonna be in the pool room,” he told her. “If anybody gives you any trouble, come get me.”
There was a smile playing at her lips. “The only trouble I’ll get in is if I try to sing. Rotten vegetables will be thrown at me.”
He shook his head. “You have no idea how good you look, do you?”
Her lips parted as she stared at him. “Maybe you should tell me.”
He wanted her. Wanted to drag her home and keep her there. Like some kind of caveman staking his claim.
“I don’t have the words.”
“How do you usually tell a woman she looks pretty?” she asked him, her voice breathy. She tipped her head to the side, her lashes fluttering as she waited for his answer.
He lifted a brow. “I’m more about showing than telling.”
Oh, that made her blush. And he liked that way too much.
“Now go have a good time. But not too good a time.” He opened the door for her. “If Sabrina starts acting a fool, let me know.”
