Page 13 of Show Me How
Her throat jumps with a thick swallow. “Maybe I should just keep driving.”
“You could, but you stopped here for a reason, and I don’t think it was solely for the one you’ve told me.”
“Why do you have so many tattoos?” she asks, completely swapping topics.
I let her obvious attempt at avoiding that conversation go and drop a look to my exposed arm. “They’re my passion.”
“Don’t you worry about whether you’ll like them in twenty years from now?”
“No, because right now, I love them. I don’t plan on hating my art ever, but if I do, at least I loved it once.”
She nods. “That makes sense.”
“Haven’t you ever had anything that you’ve loved so much that you wouldn’t be able to go without it?”
“No. I don’t think I have.”
My stomach pinches at that. “Well, I’m sorry, Millie. Everyone should experience a love like that at least once in their life.”
“There’s still time,” she says.
“How much time?”
She quirks a brow, finding humour in my question. “Is that your way of asking how old I am?”
“Yeah, it is.”
“I’m twenty-six. And you?”
“Thirty-three.”
Yeah, I’m too fucking old for her. She’s seven years my junior and absolutely not a woman I should want to get involved with.
It’s too bad that I still can’t seem to get up and leave.
5
MILLIE
My cheeks burnfrom the smile I’ve been wearing for hours now.
Shade’s funnier than I expected, and I’m sure once I’ve slept off the three beers I’ve had tonight, I’ll feel guilty for assuming he wouldn’t be. It wasn’t a cruel judgment, but it was almost automatic. Maybe that does make me a cruel person.
“Do you dance?” he asks, the crinkles beside his eyes letting me know that I’m not the only one enjoying myself.
“With how many charity events I’ve attended, yes, I do.”
“I don’t mean that type of dancing, princess.”
Jabbing my wooden fork into the bowl of fries, gravy, and cheese curds, I say, “Then, no. I don’t dance.”
“Wanna try?”
“You’re the dancing type?”
I slide the poutine-heavy fork into my mouth and conceal a moan at how good it is. He wasn’t lying when he claimed this place had the best. I’ve eaten more than three-quarters of it myself while Shade’s watched with a smirk.
He keeps his hand over mine in the place it’s been for a while now, his thumb stroking my knuckles. I’ve let him touch me, not hating the steady weight of it.
