She nodded, a dazed smile on her face, but I could tell she wasn’t entirely opposed to the idea.
The evening was a blur of her voice and my undivided attention. She talked about her passions, the real things she cared about rather than those foisted upon her like the music lessons her parents forced her into. She talked about tending flowers in her garden, the way the air was turning crisp with the season. She told me her favorite shows, and the intricate plot of the new book she was reading. And she talked drawing: how she was progressing through the sketchpad, watching videos to helpher learn form, how her clumsy start was beginning to refine with each attempt.
Some men would have found this mundane; I found it intoxicating. I wanted every thought that crossed her mind. I wanted to build a world where she felt safe enough to never stop talking.
“Hi, my name is Tina, and I will be your server for tonight. Can I get you started with any drinks?” the waitress asked, breaking our bubble.
“A glass of water will be fine for now. Ingrid?”
“I’ll have the same,” she said, her voice small but steady.
Once the waitress vanished, Ingrid leaned in, her eyes bright. “Do you like apple picking?”
“I’ve never been, doll.”
“Can that be our next date? A-and I can get us matching sweaters, too?”
I reached across the table, taking her hand and pressing a lingering kiss to her knuckles. “Dollbaby? We’re still on our first date.”
She blushed a deep, delicious crimson. “I know… sorry. I was just a bit excited.”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves… although, matching sweaters? Can we at least have matching scarves, too?”
The laugh that burst out of her was worth the teasing.
But as the night went on, I saw the cracks in her composure. She was fidgeting, her eyes darting around the room. Nervousness. She wanted this to be perfect, and the pressure was getting to her.
I stood, ignoring her confused expression, and pulled a chair right next to mine. “Sit here.”
She didn’t hesitate. She slid into the seat beside me, immediately wrapping her hand around my bicep and leaning her head against my shoulder. The tension bled out of her instantly. That was how we spent the rest of the meal—joined at the hip.
She was a sheltered creature, growing bolder in the safety of my shadow. I felt a surge of grim satisfaction knowing I was the only one she trusted this way.
As we finished, she looked up at me. Her soft voice cut through the noise of the room. “Tristian?”
“Doll.”
“When are you going to ask me to be your girlfriend?”
I paused. Not the question I was expecting on our first date… Although—I looked at her, this soft, honest woman as she stared up at me, walls lowered each day, trust opening even more—there was a lot about her I didn’t expect. I didn’t expect for her to get under my skin the way she had done, or for me to want to protect her with everything in me.
But just because I wasn’t expecting the question sure as hell didn’t mean I didn’t have an answer.
“When you’re sure that’s what you want,” I said finally.
She responded instantly, eyes bright with excitement: “I’m sure now.”
I could’ve chuckled at her adorable eagerness, the sheer honesty of it. The nervousness of thinking I wasn’t going to ask her, that she wasn’t mine yet. Little did she know, she already was. “Ingrid… Will you be my girlfriend?”
She didn’t answer with words; she threw her arms around my neck and buried her face in my shoulder. Her scent engulfed me as my hands ran down her curvy, sexy little body hidden behind this dress… the dress I wanted to peel from her skin to show her just how much she was mine.
“Guess I’ll take that as a yes…”
The warmth of the evening vanished the moment we stepped toward the restaurant’s heavy glass exit.
Standing by the curb, flanked by two mountains of muscle in cheap suits, was Darragh. He was leaning against a black SUV, picking at a fingernail, looking every bit the snake he was. Jacket open, shirt tucked into his pants, deliberately presenting the view of that fucking belt to us as we exited, inviting the instant flashbacks of the sting of its buckle.
I felt Ingrid stiffen beside me, her hand tightening on my arm. I shifted, stepping slightly in front of her, my internal alarm screaming.
