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We step onto the porch, and I turn and look at him, taking in his hooded eyes and unyielding gaze. There is nothing soft about this man. I love how tall he is, how broad his shoulders are. He makes me feel dainty in comparison. I even love his near permanent frown because when he smiles it’s a real gift.
“I’d say thank you for coming with me tonight but that doesn’t seem like enough to cover that messed up evening.” I shake my head, still reeling from dinner.
“I’d say no problem, but it really sucked.”
I burst out laughing. At first, I can’t tell if he’s joking or serious—maybe a little of both—but it’s funny, regardless. “Is that a joke? Are you being funny?”
Davis runs his hand through his hair, looking irritated that he’s without his stocking cap once again. “Maybe. It happens every once in a while.” He exhales loudly, leaning back against the porch post, his dark eyes searching my face. “That was pretty fucked up.”
“You didn’t know? That he might be my dad? Seems like everyone knows everyone else’s business in this town.”
Davis shakes his head. “I did not. Just don’t tell Archer, and no one else will find out.”
“Two jokes in a row. You okay?” I smile at him, feeling lighter somehow, just from talking to him.
“I might have pulled a muscle.” He deadpans, and I have the urge to thank him again, but I don’t want to sound like a sycophant.
I lean against the side of the house and take him in. His gruff persona only feeds into the rampant masculine energy he gives off. I want him to grab me, manhandle me, kiss me until I forget how to breathe without his mouth on mine. It would definitely improve this night because, holy shit what a mindfuck.
Davis’s face falls back into his customary frown. “Are you okay? Finding out about Anthony?”
It’s on the tip of my tongue to tell him I’m fine, but I honestly don’t know what I feel. “I…I think I’m still processing.” I shrug, stuffing my frozen hands inside my jacket pockets. A warmer coat has to be on the top of my shopping list. “My mom never talked about my dad. If I ever asked, she’d get this haunted look in her eyes. Not like she missed him, like something bad had happened. When I was old enough to think about it, I figured he must have beat her or something and that she’d escaped him. It seemed a good explanation why she never wanted to talk about him and why we never stayed in one place too long.”
I never talk about this shit but there’s something about Davis that makes me want to lay all my secrets on the table. Part of it is the connection I feel with him, the one that makes my magic hum happily in my chest, but the other part is that his pain calls to me. My upbringing was unorthodox, but it wasn’t bad. My mom loved me. There was never a question of that. Losing her ripped my heart out, it still hurts all these years later, but Dani helped put those pieces together. I don’t know what Davis went through growing up but it’s clear is pieces are frayed and don’t fit together in a comfortable way. That makes me want to soothe those fractures and be there when things get too hard.
Davis opens his mouth, looking like he’s struggling to put his thoughts in to words. His hand scrubs over his jaw and he finally speaks, “I don’t know what happened, but your mom was a good person. I know because my mom loved her like a sister, and my mom was a good person too.”
I nod because I don’t know what else to say. God, I don’t want to talk about Anthony anymore. It’s too fresh and everything is so heavy.
“You’re really committed to this date thing. Walking me to my front door and everything.” I smile up at him as I change the subject.
Davis’s eyes narrow fractionally as the porch light spills down over us. I wonder if he’s going to call me out on saying tonight was a date. If anything, tonight’s dinner was more of a hostage situation.
“Is that how dates are supposed to end?” he asks, and I open my mouth to say something smartass but pause, surprised he’s playing along. Is he implying a date should end in the bedroom instead of the porch? It might just be me projecting my super dirty thoughts. Or is he really asking me about the goodnight part of a date? Instead of playing coy, I go for the truth.
“Honestly, I don’t know. I’ve never been on a proper date.”
Davis looks like he thinks I’m full of shit, which isn’t a stretch, but I am telling the truth right now.
“You’ve never had a boyfriend?”
I’m pleased and oddly flattered by the skepticism in his voice.
“No. We moved all the time, there really wasn’t a point to start something that was going to have to end soon after.”
Davis blinks at my response, scrubbing a hand over the shadow of his beard. He tries to adjust his stocking cap again, but he’s still not wearing one, and it just makes him look more flustered. I don’t know why I find everything about him so adorable. He’s surly and a big brute of a man. He could probably pick me up like I’m a featherweight and I’m not. I’m an average girl with meat on her bones.
“What about you? Do you date a lot?”
“I’m not really the relationship type.” He crosses his arms and then lowers them back to his sides, only to reach out a hand and grab a pillar on the porch railing. Normally he’s so unflappable. Grumpy and annoyed, sure, but he doesn’t seem the type to blush. Not that he’s blushing now, but his body language is doing the equivalent with all the shifting. I like it way too much
“Dating does not equal a relationship.”
“I’m more the kind of guy that gets roped into awkward dinners that turn into paternity reveal parties.”
My mouth opens and closes. That shithead. I reach out and smack his arm. “Dick.”
Davis chuckles softly and eases back against the pillar, relaxing slightly. “So I’ve been told.”
