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I couldn't help but let out a frustrated groan. It had only been a kiss, but after six months of gathering dust, my libido was apparently desperate to make up for lost time. "That had better be a promise," I said.
"It is."
After Logan left, my mind wandered back to Tom. He'd told me he wanted me to move on. I still wasn't sure if that was possible, but maybe today I'd taken a step in that direction.
One layer at a time.
Chapter Fourteen
Logan
I left the choice of food to Grace. I know about as much about restaurants as I do about brain surgery. She settled on some new Mexican place, buried in the suburbs, which was fine by me. Part of me had been afraid she'd pick something complicated and fancy and leave me looking like an idiot trying to translate a menu full of truffles and foie gras and shit that was too pretentious to be called by its real name. Burritos and tacos I could handle.
We organized to meet outside the place at seven o'clock. It annoyed me that I couldn't do the whole proper gentleman thing and pick her up from her place, but it had been years since I'd owned a car. I like to run, and I'm not much for traveling outside my comfort zone, so my own two feet work well enough most of the time.
She rocked up right on time wearing a jaw dropping little black dress that did nothing to hide that ridiculous body. I actually stopped in my tracks for several seconds when I first laid eyes on her. I'd already seen her naked but, bizarrely, I thought she actually looked even sexier like this. Classy, but hinting at so much.
Her face lit with a smile as I approached. I didn't think I'd ever get sick of that sight.
"Wow, you're really pulling out the big guns," she said. "I didn't know you owned anything with a collar."
I grinned sheepishly. "I didn't until a few hours ago."
"You didn't have to do that."
With any other girl, I wouldn't have, but with her it felt somehow wrong to just rock up in a tee shirt and shorts. Like the idea of picking her up, for some reason I felt compelled to do things properly this time. It was early days, but something deep in my bones told me this wasn't a throwaway romance. This was the real deal. She deserved to be treated like a princess, and if that meant spending forty bucks on a shirt I'd never wear again, then so be it.
I shrugged. "This is what people wear on dates, right?"
"Some people."
"Besides, I didn't want to be the under-dressed bum with the beautiful girl on my arm." I gave her an exaggerated look up and down. "But apparently that's going to be the case anyway. Fuck, you look good."
She blushed and my eyes zoned in on her lips once more. I'm not much for caked on makeup — I prefer my women to look like women, not clowns — but she had this subtle shade of lipstick on that made her whole mouth look fuller somehow, more sensual. It was driving me fucking crazy. I wanted to kiss her, but past experience told me I wasn't going to be able to stop there, and I didn't think the Vegas streets were quite ready for that particular show.
The way she returned my gaze told me she was having similar thoughts. I had no idea how I managed to restrain myself last night, but I was certainly regretting it now. I could already feel all the blood in my body rushing south. If we kept standing there like that, it was going to be very obvious to everyone in the restaurant exactly what I thought of my date.
Before things downstairs could get too out of control I said, "Shall we?" She nodded and took my hand. I drew a deep breath, the kind everyone tells you will calm you down. Crunch time. It wasn't just my ignorance about food that led me to avoid restaurants. Any room full of people is a challenge for me, but I was determined to do my best. Grace deserved more than a broken down hermit. If she could overcome the immense guilt and grief of a lost partner to be here with me, I sure as hell could try to put aside my fear of noise and company.
It still amazed me that we were here at all. Even the other night when we were lying there naked together, after she'd thrown herself at me, I couldn't quite believe it was what she wanted. It didn't seem possible that there was space for me next to all that pain. It frightened me. The things she'd said had been so raw, so sincere, but nonetheless part of me couldn't help wondering if she was just looking for a distraction, a few moments of warmth and passion to help keep her afloat. When the dust had settled and the thrill had worn off, and she understood how fucked up I really was, would she still be interested? I'd do anything to help her through this, but that would break me.
I think that's part of why I was trying so hard. The shirt, the date, I desperately wanted to live up to her expectations. I knew I'd never be normal in every sense of the word, but if I could just force myself to do a few simple things, perhaps that would be enough. Besides, it had been a long time since I'd even tried to put myself out here like this. I'd been keeping it together lately. Maybe this wouldn't be so bad.
The restaurant was smaller than I expected, maybe forty seats in total, but the bulk of them were full. It had an air of restrained energy to it, not quite the din of a Friday night bar, but not an intimate romantic venue, either. The hostess led us to a small wooden table in the middle of the room.
"This is cool," Grace said, glancing around as she slid into her seat.
I, on the other hand, wasn't so sure. The space between us and the nearby tables was small, maybe three feet, which meant we were ringed in on all sides by people. "You don't have any other tables do you?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady. "Maybe one in a corner?"
The hostess almost seemed put out by the request. "Sorry, we're fully booked tonight."
"What's wrong with this one?" asked Grace.
I gave myself a mental slap and tried to focus on her. It was only a room full of people out having a good time. Just like us. "Nothing. I'm just being stupid. Never mind, this is fine."
"I'm glad," the hostess replied, shooting me an insincere smile that said "don't you dare cause any trouble." She placed two menus down in front of us and began to read out the specials, but my ears were already elsewhere. That's the thing about the military, they teach you to be aware of everything at all times, and the training is burned so deep that you never quite shake the habit. Hyper-vigilance, they call it. Right now, all I wanted to do was concentrate on the beautiful girl in front of me, but the room wouldn't let me. The clatter of cutlery, the scrape of a plate, the murmur of another couple whispering quietly to our right — they filled my awareness. I had this desperate urge to try and look at everything at once, to make sure it was what it sounded like, but of course that was impossible from our current location. Blood was beginning to pound in my ears.
"They sound good," said Grace, squeezing my hand and bringing me temporarily back to Earth. "Just give us a minute."
