Page 49 of Sacrifice
"I should help?—"
"You should go make yourself even more gorgeous for tall, dark, and dangerous out there."
"He's not out there."
"Yeah, he is. Has been for the last twenty minutes. Sitting on his bike, playing with his phone." She peeks through the curtain. "And smoking, which shouldn't be hot but somehow is."
I look for myself.
Sure enough, Emil's lounging on his bike right outside, scrolling through his phone with a cigarette between his lips.
The new jacket looks even better in the dying sunlight.
He's positioned so he can see both entrances to the shop, always tactical even when he's trying to look casual.
"I can't do this," I mutter.
"Yes, you can." Maya hands me my purse. "Go. Have dinner. Let that man look at you like you're dessert. Live a little."
I check my reflection—black jeans, red silk top, ankle boots.
Not trying too hard, but not looking like I didn't try at all.
I refresh my lipstick, fix my hair, spray perfume on my wrists.
It'll have to do.
Emil looks up as I exit, dropping the cigarette and crushing it under his boot.
His eyes travel from my feet to my face, slow and appreciative.
The look makes me want to either glow or hide—I can't decide which.
"Red's your color," he says.
"Everything's my color."
"Can't argue with that." He hands me the spare helmet. "Thai food okay?"
"You asking or telling?"
"Asking. I'm trying this new thing where I give you choices. My military buddy and his wife own a great place to grab some grub at."
"How progressive of you."
"I have my moments." He waits while I secure the helmet. "Hold on tight."
I climb on behind him, trying to maintain some distance. Pointless.
The moment he starts the engine, I have to wrap my arms around him or risk falling off.
He's warm and solid, and he smells like leather and smoke and that cologne that makes me want to bury my face in his neck.
The ride is shorter than that night a week ago, less aggressive.
He's actually driving like a normal person, stopping fully at lights, signaling turns.
Being responsible.
