Page 20 of Fight for Me

He laughed. “Good to know I won’t have you as my competition. But I mean why the waitressing gig? It seems you have connections in high places. I don’t see the mother who decorated this apartment content with a daughter serving steak and potatoes to strangers, even if the restaurant is nice.”

“I’m actually a social worker for Health and Human Services. The ‘waitressing gig’, as you put it, helps make ends meet because as you may know, a social worker isn’t exactly comparable to a senator on the federal pay scale.”

“Why did you become a social worker? That seems…unusual for—” He abruptly cut off.

“For a poor little rich girl?” she teased.

“You said it, not me.”

She shrugged. “I wanted to help people. I know how much the bureaucracy of government can get in the way of helping people, so I thought I’d do the best working from inside the red tape.”

“And how’s that going?”

Anne gave a heavy sigh. “Some days good. Some…not so much. I don’t think I was prepared for…all the misery and sadness out there.” Her eyes met his. “You could say I had a sheltered childhood.”

“How so?”

She held her up her hand, ticking points off on her fingers. “Wealthy parents. Only girl. They had trouble conceiving, which means I was even more sheltered than would be typical. I had to fight tooth and nail to work in this field. My mother was appalled.”

“And your father?”

“He wasn’t as appalled, but he also doesn’t want to see his little princess as a waitress.”

The light seemed to dawn on him. “That was him, then,” he said. “The other day at lunch.”

Anne nodded. “And I wasn’t ready for that particular revelation in the middle of the lunch rush.” She took another swallow of her wine, glad she’d had a decent bottle on hand that hadn’t had a screw top.

Blane smiled. “Always happy to be the knight in shining armor.”

Anne’s gaze dropped to her glass. “You certainly were tonight.” She still couldn’t quite believe he’d taken out two robbers and was now sipping wine in her apartment like it was just another night out.

“I strive to impress.”

Anne laughed softly. Damn. He was too charming for his own good.

“Do you own a gun?” he asked.

She scoffed. “In D.C.? Are you kidding? It would be easier for me to cook meth than legally own a gun in this town.”

“I could help with that. Would you know how to use it?”

“I’ve never held a gun in my life.”

“Would you feel safer?”

Anne thought about it. Guns scared her, but that was probably because they intimidated her.

“Maybe. I don’t know.”

“Why don’t I take you shooting,” he said. It wasn’t really a question. “I’ll teach you, then you can decide. D.C. is not a safe town, especially for a woman living alone.”

“I said I’m not going to date you.” Though she was rethinking that resolve with the more wine she drank. He looked really, really good. And he’d edged toward her ever so slightly. If she reached out, she could touch his arm. She wondered what his muscles would feel like under the expensive cloth. Probably awesome.

“It isn’t a date,” he said, swallowing more wine and leaning back against the couch. His arm stretched over the top towards her as he relaxed, an ankle resting on the opposite knee. He looked utterly at home. “It’s helping a woman learn to defend herself. You don’t like it, that’s fine. But at least give it a shot.” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows. “Pun intended.”

Anne couldn’t help it. She laughed. “And when would this personal shooting lesson from America’s Most Eligible Senator occur?”

“That’s a leading question, but how about tomorrow?”

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