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I grab my napkin and try to hide my face. I just want to run away. My face is burning with embarrassment.
I laugh trying to play it off, but he doesn’t laugh with me. I run my hand down the back of my head.
“You don’t,” he says, and I suck in my lips.
He laughs, shaking his head. “You are, hands down, the most beautiful fucking woman I have ever seen; you should have been in a magazine or some shit. You are so out of my league, every fucker in here, their eyes have not left you since the moment you stepped foot in here.”
Wait, what?
What is he talking about?
He sits back and grins ear to ear. “You are the best thing I have ever laid eyes on. I don’t want you to doubt that, ever.”
My face is on fire, and I’m the one who started this whole mess. “If you don’t believe me, I will go up to every fucker in here that has been staring, and I will make them tell you exactly what they think. Want me to do that?” He has a wicked smirk on his face that tells me that he will do exactly that.
I cover my face with my hands and laugh. “No, please don’t do that.”
He chuckles with me and I feel him touching the back of my hands, pulling them away from my face. “I don’t know you, but I know beauty when I see it, darlin.” He smiles sweetly.
I melt.
I smile back at him, a complete and utterly genuine smile. “Scoot your ass over,” he tells me. I give him a confused look, but I do just that.
He has me against the wall, and he slides in next to me so that we’re sharing the same side of the booth.
I don’t breathe for a solid minute because of how close he is to me. I can feel the heat radiating off him. The urge to lean over and rest my head on his shoulder is overwhelming.
“I never said thank you for what you said, Terror,” I thank him softly not wanting the people behind us to eavesdrop.
He shakes his head with that small smile of his. “Darlin, I’m just being honest.”
I smile back and look down at my lap, letting go of the bottom of my shirt that I have practically ruined with my nervous tics.
He catches me looking down and takes my hand, intertwining our fingers together. He lifts both of our hands and kisses the back of mine.
“Alright, are you ready to order?” The waitress pops back over and slides a beer in front of Terror and a water in front of me with a lemon slice. I’m not old enough to drink legally.
“We would like the chef’s special; we are going to share, so could you please bring out an extra plate?” I let out a deep sigh because I had no clue what I really wanted. I’m a steak and potatoes kind of girl and this place is much fancier than what I’m used to.
“What made you decide to come to Texas? You have an accent that I can’t place.”
I have an accent? Terror’s is completely sexy with that southern drawl of his. “New York. I wanted a fresh start.”
He nods like he understands. “Parents?” he asks, and my throat thickens at the thought of my parents.
“They died in a car accident years ago. I was in foster care until I aged out at eighteen.”
“Fuck that is tough.”
I shrug. It’s tough for every kid in foster care. Foster care is a band-aid on the pain that is buried deep in our heart. “I went to college for a couple of years, but I just needed out. So, I drove.”
He looks impressed that I just picked up my life and moved. Someone was ready to move into my place within a day in New York, and no one missed me.
All but Lyle.
Lyle, my creepy ex-foster brother who was just too much in my space, too touchy and too much everything. He was a big part of me deciding to just move without a trace. He started to get extra weird, like standing outside my apartment waiting for me to come home or showing up at my college, waiting outside the buildings I was in.
“Before my parents died, we lived outside the city in the middle of nowhere and I guess that’s why it led me here.”
