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“I’ll never understand why men want to beat each other up. When Mae and I get together, we share a blanket on the couch, splurge on Rocky Road ice cream, and re-watch Fast and Furious movies.”
“That explains a lot.” He looked almost disappointed.
“What do you mean?”
“I should have known,” he said bitterly.
This had taken a sudden turn. I had no clue what I had said to upset him. “Known what?”
“You like the dangerous type.” The accusation in his tone was harsh.
I suspected I knew where this was coming from. I remembered both Mae and Simone talking about Hawk’s bad-boy vibe. He must have attracted a lot of women who only wanted to flirt with danger, but never cared about who he was on the inside.
Well, I never saw him that way. “No, I don’t.”
His eyes turned dark. “You don’t have to lie.”
“Why would I? Yes, I like Dom. Mostly for his muscles, if you must know. But what I love most about those movies is the theme of family. Dom will do anything to protect the people he loves.”
I took a bite of my sesame seed bagel and waited for him to process what I had said. I hoped he wouldn’t misinterpret my desire for him. He couldn’t possibly think I was only hot for him because he had a bad-boy vibe? And even if I was, why would that bother him so much if this was just a fuckfest?
“Oh,” I said, trying to lighten the mood between us, “and the action scenes. Great stunt scenes.”
He studied me for a while, probably trying to gauge if I was lying.
Did Hawk want me to like him forhim? I focused on my food and pushed the thought away. Because if I admitted that, then I would allow myself to hope we could be more than just a weekend fling.
After a long pause, his gaze softened, and he went back to eating his breakfast. With a hint of humor in his tone, he said, “So you like muscles, huh?”
I laughed and winked at him. “Couldn’t you tell with all my drooling and fondling?”
“And here I thought you had hung on to my biceps because I was giving you the ride of your life.”
I had held on because I didn’t want him to leave. “Maybe a little of that too.”
“Well, eat up and get your strength back because I’ll be giving you more rides that you’ll remember for the rest of your life.”
Heat flushed my cheeks as I took another bite of my bagel.
After a long pause, he stared at his coffee mug and said, “So, family, huh? That’s important to you?”
His grave tone told me we were getting into a serious topic, one that was difficult for him to discuss. “It is. Not just your real family, but the people you love, who you accept into your life.”
With his eyes still averted, he asked, “Do you have a big family?”
I shook my head. “Not really. My parents are in California, and my Nana is in Boston. That’s about it. No siblings. No aunts or uncles or cousins. All my other grandparents have passed on. But you don’t need a big family to be happy.”
I wanted to ask about his. Did he have sisters he was overprotective of? A grandmother who doted on him? But I wasn’t sure he’d actually open up. I had to tread carefully so he wouldn’t shut down. Instead of asking specifics, I asked, “Are you close to yours?”
He shook his head. “No.”
His tone was not sharp or definitive, like when I asked him about his tattoos. I had a feeling he wanted to open up, so I waited patiently.
After a couple of minutes of eating in silence, he said, “My father and I aren’t on good terms and never will be. And my mom left when I was a kid. I haven’t heard from her since.”
“I’m sorry,” I said.
His face hardened. “I didn’t tell you that, so you can pity me.”
