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“Always.” And that’s exactly what we do for the next hour, finishing off her cabinets and hardware in her kitchen.
“Let me take you to dinner,” I say when I can no longer keep my hunger at bay.
She beams, her eyes twinkling in the soft light of the sun pouring in through the windows. “What do you have in mind?”
“Well, we’re halfway between Denver and Colorado Springs, how about something in the Springs?”
She nods. “I like that idea. There’s a great little sushi place there I’ve always wanted to try.”
“I’ll drive.” I swing my keyring around my finger.
A while later we’re pulling into the sushi joint, and I open the door for Paisley. It almost feels like a date, and I won’t let my mind be bothered with business, or my attraction for Paisley.
This is just two people sharing a meal.
I look over the menu once we’re seated in a little booth near the back. It’s quiet, and dark. It’s like we’re in our own secluded restaurant with nobody else around for miles.
The menu has sushi for days. Every type of roll you can imagine plus hibachi. It’s a bit overwhelming, and I end up letting my mind drift to the renovation job while Paisley looks over the menu like there’s a test on it later.
“What do you think?” I ask her.
“Maybe the lobster roll? Also, a tuna roll?”
The server stops by and I order both, and tell her, “Throw on a volcano roll as well.”
As soon as we’re alone, I turn just a smidge to look at Paisley. “I never knew you liked sushi.”
“Well, there’s a lot you don’t know about me.”
“I just remember when we were younger you’d turn your nose up at any fish dish your parents would make.”
She leans in closer. “A lot has changed since I was a little girl.”
I suck in a breath. “I don’t need to be reminded.”
Her cheeks redden a bit as she takes a sip of her sake. “What about you?” She turns it around on me. “What’s changed?”
I crack a smile. “Well, I don’t need to sleep with the light on anymore.”
“Come on, you were always brave.”
“Not always.” I lift my arm along the back of the booth. “But I guess I am now.”
“What were you afraid of when you were a boy?” Her eyes are big and wonderful. Giant orbs that see the upside of the world.
I lower my gaze to her hands in her lap, wondering if given the chance I could get her to touch me again. I drop that thought like a hot potato. “I guess before you knew me I was scared of my father.”
Her hand reaches out to touch mine. “Why?”
I lift my head, meeting her eyes. “He wasn’t a very nice man.”
“I’m sorry.”
I wave her off. “Nah, it’s fine. You should be lucky you never had to meet him. He wasn’t like your dad.”
She laughs. “You mean he wasn’t embarrassing like mine.”
I smile. “Your dad was great. When did he ever embarrass you?”
“I remember the Homecoming dance where he interrogated my date for like half an hour before he let us leave the house.”
I move her hand from mine. One more reminder why a relationship with us would never work. Her father would murder me.
Like legit, straight up slaughter me. Even though we’re both adults and can make our own decisions, I still have this feeling he wouldn’t approve. That he’d forever think I’m not good enough for his baby girl.
Which let’s face it, I’m not.
“Well, I’m glad he did. That guy was an asshole.”
“Daniel Pinkerton was not an asshole.”
I scrunch up my face at her. “He was a complete prick.”
She laughs a little. “No, he wasn’t. He was sweet. I remember he was so scared the rest of the night.”
“Good. I’m glad your father put the fear of God into him.” I scoot closer on instinct. “Because he was no good.”
She wags a finger at me. “I think it was you who was no good.”
I wink. “Maybe. But, I got better.”
“Did you?” God, her fucking eyes are so innocent.
“Yeah.” I drop the subject, wondering if I should tell her how I got a whole lot better at things. Or maybe I should show her.
Back away. But I can’t. It’s like she’s a magnet I can’t separate from.
She laughs, placing her hand back on my thigh. And I stare at it, wondering why she’s put it there. Is it because she feels some sort of connection with me like I have? Or is it because she’s just a nice person who touches and feels a lot? “You didn’t even know him.”
“Didn’t need to know him. If your dad didn’t like him, then I probably wouldn’t have either.”
“Why?”
I lean closer, breathing in her scent. “Because he was no good for you.”
Her eyes stay connected to mine. “You know that because?”
