Page 63 of Pregnant Bratva Wife
I hadn’t realized how much I longed for that word because an instant gush of joy sparked through my body. “Great! Seven work for you?”
“Seven’s fine.”
We finished breakfast in silence, but I couldn’t help noticing she glanced up at me a few times when she thought I wasn’t looking.
***
By seven, I’d changed three times, which was ridiculous for a full-grown man. I finally settled on dark jeans and a gray Henley—casual but not sloppy.
The kind of thing normal men wore on normal dates.
Not that this was a date.
When Autumn came down the stairs in a simple blue dress that made her eyes look like pieces of the sky, I had to remind myself again:Not a date.
“You look nice,” I said.
“Thanks.” She eyed my casual clothes with surprise. “You too. Are we not going somewhere fancy?”
“Not tonight.” I opened the front door for her. “I thought we’d try something different.”
She followed me to the car, curiosity replacing some of the wariness in her expression. “Different how?”
“You’ll see.”
My driver, Anton, took us to the west side of the city, away from the high-end restaurants where I typically took women out for dinner.
I watched Autumn’s face as we pulled up to a small, brightly-colored taco stand with picnic tables scattered around it.
Her eyebrows shot up. “This is... unexpected.”
“Disappointed?” I asked, suddenly worried I had misjudged what she liked.
“No.” A genuine smile spread across her face. “Just surprised. You don’t seem like a taco stand kind of guy.”
I put a hand to my chest, mock offended. “Wow. That’s the second-most hurtful thing anyone’s ever said to me.”
She grinned. “What was the first?”
“That I look like someone who orders plain chicken at restaurants.”
She laughed. “Okay,that’sfair.”
“I’m wounded,” I said, but offered her my arm anyway. “Come on. Let me blow your mind with street food.”
She looked around at the casual setting, the families and couples sitting at the wooden tables, and the string lights all around. “So, is this place a front for money laundering or something?”
I laughed. “No. It’s just tacos. Really good tacos. Although it could be a front. I see some really addictive salsa being passed around.”
“Ooh. Really?” Her eyes widened. “You think we can afford it?”
“Might have to traffic some kidneys,” I answered seriously.
She nodded, pretending to consider as we walked on. I watched her from the corner of my eye. The small smile on her face, the genuine excitement at being here, made me suddenly feel like a fool.
Why had it taken me a month to take her out for a night? Why had I allowed all this time to be wasted away?
We approached the stand, where a middle-aged woman greeted us warmly.
