Page 88 of The Assist
Dinner is easy. We talk about stupid things, like movies we both hate, our worst-ever injuries, what our dream jobs would be if we weren’t in hockey or physio. She says she wanted to be a vet until she found out she’d have to put animals down.
“You’ve got the softest heart of anyone I know,” I say without thinking.
She blinks. “You don’t know many people.”
“I know enough.”
She goes quiet then, chewing her bottom lip the way she does when she’s unsure. And I hate that. I hate that she’s so used to being overlooked or dismissed she doesn’t even see what I see in her.
After dinner, we walk to the edge of the terrace, the breeze is soft and makes her hair flutter seductively around her shoulders. I reach out and brush a curl from her face. “You cold?”
“No.” Her voice is hushed, then she glances at me. “This feels like a real date.”
“It is a real date.” I take my jacket off and drape it around her shoulders, she smiles gratefully and pulls it tight around herself. I don’t miss the way she inhales, taking in the scent of my aftershave that’s obviously lingering on the fabric.
“Yeah, but not just dinner. It’s you. And me. And we’re not hiding.” Her voice trembles at the edge. “I forgot what that felt like.”
I take her hand and thread my fingers through hers. “I want more of this. No secrets. No sneaking around. But only when you’re ready.”
She stares at me like she’s seeing something new. “You’re kind of a sap, you know that? Underneath that hard Diesel exterior there’s a soft, squidgy version of the real you.”
I grin. “Only for you.”
When I drive her home, we don’t talk much. There’s music playing low, her hand in mine over the gearstick. But when I park outside her flat, she doesn’t get out straight away.
“Best date I’ve ever had,” she says quietly, not looking at me.
I lean closer. “That’s because you’ve been dating amateurs.”
She laughs, soft and breathy, and turns to me. “And what are you, then?”
“I’m the guy who’s gonna ruin you for all of them.”
The kiss starts slow. Like we’re still learning each other, even though I’ve already had her in every way you could think of. But this? This is different. This is the kind of kiss that feels like a promise.
I walk her to her door. She unlocks it, then pauses.
“You coming in?”
I shake my head, even though every part of me wants to. “Not tonight.”
She arches a brow. “You turning down sex? Did I do something wrong?”
I lean in, brushing her jaw with my thumb. “No. I’m saying I want the next time to be about more than just heat. I want you to still feel like you’re on a date, not just dragged into bed.”
She swallows hard. “You really are a sap.”
I grin, kiss her cheek, and wait until she’s inside before I walk back to the car.
And I realise then; it’s not just that I like Mia Clarke.
I’m falling for her.
Hard.
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
MIA
