“You think gifts make up for you taking things from me?”
“No, but I thought it might help.”
He opened the small box in his hand. A light pink heart shaped pendant hung off a chain that he lifted out.
“You bought that for me?” I asked, surprised at how perfect it was. “I love it.”
“Then turn around.”
I did, waiting as he slipped the necklace around my neck and clasped it. I spun, wrapping my arms around his neck to pull him in for a kiss.
He groaned, kissing me hard. “I have something else to give you, but we have to go first.”
“Oh, so the creepy road we met on isn’t the date night?”
“No, it’s not. Although, if you want it to be, I’m happy to take a walk. I have my knife.”
“No gun?”
“I was trying to be a gentleman tonight.”
“Oh, perfect, no blood splatter on me, then, just you.”
He grinned, pulling me into his side as he started walking down the main road again. “You are getting so good at all of this, Rebel.”
I smiled at the compliment, knowing it was strange. “I’m glad you think I’m handling you being a killer better. That’s what every girl dreams of growing up. Are you going to tell me what we are doing?”
He shook his head, making another turn until we were in front of the art gallery. Rook pulled the door open, waving for me to go in.
“Here?”
“That’s why I’m standing here with the door open.”
“Yes, but you are also the man that said he would rather be shot than have to walk around a new art exhibit. I believe that’s a quote.”
“And I still will say that’s my preference between the two, but now I have a girl who likes this, so I go.”
“I don’t need to go with someone who is going to complain the entire time.”
“Then I guess you should be happy I’m here. I’ve dealt with so many worse things and not said a word.”
I couldn’t help but look down where I knew his skin was ruined. I still wished he would tell me more about it, but past that it happened, he didn’t share anything.
“So you really want to go in and watch me look at paintings and that’s it? You stay quiet and I enjoy myself?”
“I will be enjoying you. That’s enough for me.”
He was dressed nicer tonight, at least for him. The dark jeans and black button up were cut perfectly on his body. The one button undone was showing off just enough of his chest tattoos that I wasn’t doing well at looking at anything else.
I knew what he could do, what he was capable of, and yet he was standing here all dressed up to take me to an art exhibit.
He pulled me inside, heading to the first line of paintings. He didn’t say a word, just held my hand as I looked over the first painting. Then, he did the same for the second and third, and by the time we made it to the next row of paintings, I was focusing less on the art and more on the man who was quiet next to me.
“Are you enjoying yourself, or are you counting down the minutes until we leave?”
“I’m enjoying myself,” he said, his hand sliding lower down my back.
“Really?”
