Page 11 of Pride

He bit the eggroll in two. “But you didn’t.”

“I did. I mean, kind of. They’re what I wanted, but I figured you needed them more than me.”

“Why’s that?”

“You’re bigger than me, so you need more food. I gave up what I wanted to satisfy your hunger.” I cocked an eyebrow. “So, I’m a risk taker and a nurturer.”

“A nurturer, huh?” He poked the remaining eggroll in his mouth and then looked me over. “Yeah. You look pretty motherly.”

I was wearing cut-off shorts, ten-year-old Chucks, and a tee shirt I’d torn the sleeves from. I looked far from motherly. “I’m looking pretty Whiskey Tango right now.”

“It was sarcasm.” He gave me a quick look and then grinned. “You look cute.”

As far as compliments went, it wasn’t much. It was enough, however, to make me blush a little. I gnawed on my burrito and hoped he didn’t notice that my face had gone flush.

Due to the limited amount of space on his motorcycle, I’d brought only the necessities with me, and left the rest. One thing I couldn’t bring, however, was much money.

Fisher didn’t seem to care. He paid for everything, and didn’t ask for anything in return. Furthermore, he didn’t ask what I was running from, or what my long-term plan was. He seemed to be an in the moment kind of guy.

The more time I spent with him, the less I could imagine leaving. It seemed out of character for me, but I was becoming attached to him after knowing him for only two days. Despite what he did to the three men in the bar, he was calm, quiet, and courteous.

He bit the corner off his burrito and then leaned against the handlebars of the motorcycle. “So, you still planning on going all the way?”

I wanted to go all the way with him, but that wasn’t what he meant. “To the beach?” I asked.

“The coast.”

“There’s a beach on the coast, right?”

“Last time I checked.”

I’d never been to the beach, and the thought of doing so was enough to justify me staying with Fisher at least until we got there.

“I can’t wait,” I said. “I’ve never seen it. So, as long as you don’t get sick of me, yeah.”

“You’re pretty good company. Doubt I’ll get sick of you.”

I studied him. His face was covered in a few day’s growth of stubble. It only added to his masculine appearance. The tattoos scattered about his upper arms completed his bad boy persona. As he pushed his left hand into the pocket of his jeans, the muscles in his upper arm flared.

“Let’s hope not.” My eyes lingered on his bicep. “I’m getting kind of used to having you around.”

He poked the end of his burrito into his mouth and then patted me on the shoulder. “Saddle up. We’ll finish this conversation in Mesa.”

He talked very little, but his actions spoke more than words ever could, or would. Sexually, he was far more reserved than the men I’d been with in the past. If anything was going to happen between us, it was obvious I was going to have to be the aggressor. I had no idea how much longer I could wait, but when the day came, Fisher Know was going to get the ride of his life.

All I could do was hope that he liked it as much as I liked thinking about it.