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She giggles, shrugging. “I don’t know. Because I’ve been perving on you for years, maybe?”
“You were a kid with a crush. Just like any other little kid. I’m not interested in that. I’m interested in you, as you are now, my Bria. I’m interested in our future. And, most important of all, I’m interested in our date.”
She smiles radiantly. Her smile lighting up her whole face.
“And thank you,” I add.
“For what?”
“For sharing that, about your parents. I know it must’ve been difficult.”
She nods shortly. “I think it’s good for us to talk, don’t you? I think it’s good for us to be able to share.”
She raises her eyebrow, unable to hide the hint of curiosity in her gorgeous eyes.
“Why do I feel like you’re fishing?” I tease.
“Maybe because I am.” She grins. “So… your parents? You’ve done too good of a job hiding your private life. I should be able to google all this stuff, you know.”
“There’s nothing special to tell.” I shrug. “My parents live on the East Coast and they’re good people, solid people. They’ve had their problems and, yeah, maybe it’s why I left home. Maybe it’s why I wanted to become an actor – to become other people. But that’s all in the past. We’ve reconciled and we actually get along great now.”
“But it wasn’t always that way?”
I chuckle. “I get the feeling you’re fishing again.”
“Maybe I am. But…”
I grin over at her, feeling so much warmth and contentment it’s almost difficult to handle. It was such a damn sudden shift, from thinking she’d never want me to knowing she feels the same.
Whiplash doesn’t even come close.
“How about we make a deal?”
“What kind of deal?”
“I’ll play along with your interrogation…”
“Hey, that’s not what this is.”
“I’m just teasing,” I tell her. “But I’ll answer your questions if you wear an outfit of my choosing for our date this evening.”
She bites her lip for a moment. Or maybe she’s still biting it, clasping it in that way that drives me insane, that forces frenetic and animalistic thoughts into my mind, twisting through me.
Absurdly, it annoys me that I have to look at the road instead of at Bria.
“But how would that work?” she murmurs after a pause. “All the stores will be closed.”
“I’m sure Maximillia will be able to rustle something up. Don’t worry about the how. Just worry about yes or no.”
I don’t add that the only reason I’ll be able to get my woman a custom outfit on such late notice is because of my wealth. I hate talking about it in such open terms, bragging about it. And yet is there really any need to be so withdrawn with Bria?
She is, after all, my woman.
We’re going to be together forever.
And she already knows I’m wealthy.
Hell, I guess old habits really do die hard.
“Okay, yes, yes,” she says in a quick rush, as though she has to force the words out before she changes her mind. “So what were you saying about your parents?”
“It’s not a big deal,” I say. “Nothing even close to what you experienced—”
“Hey.” Her hand is on my arm, a sweet soft touch, sending electric sensations shooting up my arm. “You don’t have to downplay your own problems just because I’ve got some too, Braden.”
“How’d you get so wise, eh?” I tease.
But really I’m not teasing. It’s just there’s a playful note in my voice. Really I’ve never been more serious.
“Well?” she prompts.
“They were alcoholics, both of them, for years,” I say. “They didn’t do anything terrible to me. We weren’t poor. We weren’t wealthy. We just existed. But they were never… ah, I don’t know, Bria. I find it hard to talk about this stuff.”
“They were never there for you?” she murmurs, filling in the gaps because of course, she can read me.
Just like I can read her.
“Exactly.” I nod. “All they cared about was drinking and… No, there’s no and. All they cared about was drinking. They didn’t even care when I ran away to LA to try and become an actor. Hell, what am I saying? I was eighteen, free to do what I wanted. But this is all ancient history now. We made amends in my early thirties and we’ve been friendly ever since. Life’s too short to hold grudges.”
“Thank you,” she whispers. “For telling me that. I know it’s difficult. Especially for big grumpy tough men like you.”
I chuckle. “Grumpy? Me? I’m the cheeriest bastard who ever lived.”
Without looking at her, I can feel her rolling her eyes.
“Yeah, yeah,” she says, with cute sassy sarcasm. “Whatever you say.”
“Our children are never going to experience anything like what we did,” I growl, passion gripping me. “They’re going to have a happy home, with parents who… who care about them, and each other.”
Fuck.
I almost said with parents who love each other.
