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Huffing out an amused snort, I shook my head. “Not if they know what’s good for them. Trust me, no one will mess with anything on this bike.”
She obviously didn’t understand the 1% sticker and the SYLRB decal.
Looking dubious, she walked with me when I placed a hand on her lower back and guided her to the doors. For a moment, I paused and glanced around. She gave me a questioning look. The feeling of being watched diminished, and I continued into the restaurant.
Once we were seated and looking over the menu, she seemed to fidget nervously.
“Everything okay?” I asked.
The waitress came and got our drink order. Surprisingly, she ordered a margarita and a glass of water. “Water for me,” I told the waitress, who assured us she’d be back for our order.
“Well?” I prodded. She sighed.
“Look, Voodoo, Ogun, whatever you want me to call you, I don’t know what I’m doing going out with you. You’re everything I don’t need to be mixed up in—everything I’ve tried to get away from.” She hesitated.
“What are you trying to get away from? Are you in trouble?” Never in a million years would I have thought she’d have skeletons in her closet.
“No, nothing like that.” She fidgeted nervously. “I’m worried that if this goes badly, it will affect our professional relationship at the clinic. Dr. Moran said there was no policy against us going out but to be cautious.”
Stiffening slightly, I took exception to him warning her away from me.
“Don’t get me wrong,” she said. “He didn’t tell me not to go out to dinner with you, but he said he hoped it wouldn’t cause tension in the clinic if it didn’t work out.”
Relaxing, I nodded. “I get it. But don’t worry. I’m mature enough not to be an ass.” Maybe a bit of a lie, because I could be a real dick when I wanted to be. In fact, most people found me pretty intimidating, but she made me feel lighter. A little more human.
The waitress dropped off our drinks, took our order, and left again.
She appeared to ponder on the situation. “Okay. But you need to know that I’m not looking for a relationship. My life is pretty busy right now.”
“That’s perfectly fine with me. I’m not much of a relationship kind of guy either. But I like you, and I’d like to get to know you more. Hang out. Whatever.”
She stiffened slightly when I said I wanted to get to know her. Most people might not have noticed it, but I was extremely adept at reading people.
“Mmm,” she said before she took a sip of her margarita.
“How do you feel about stopping by the clubhouse after this?” I asked her, gauging her reaction.
“Umm, like your motorcycle club hang out?” Nervous energy poured from her. “Who all will be there?” she asked as she trailed a finger through the condensation on her glass.
Not sure who she was worried about being there, I opted for the truth. “The club members, maybe an ol’ lady or two, likely several, uh, club girls.”
She raised a dark blonde brow. “Club girls?”
Pushing on my bottom lip with my tongue, I debated how to describe them. Any other time, I wouldn’t have hesitated, but she was different. “It’s probably exactly what you’re thinking.”
“So chicks that sleep with all the guys?” she bluntly questioned. Her finger tapped the side of the glass as she stared in my eyes.
“You could say that,” I replied with a shrug. Leaning back in the booth, I took in every minute thing about her, trying to see how bold she would be.
“Chicks that you sleep with?”
“I have.”
“Oh,” she murmured as she took a sip of her drink again. “So if, um, we….” She stuttered and trailed off without finishing her thought.
Deciding I wasn’t going to beat around the bush because it wasn’t in my nature, I sat up and tapped her hand that rested on the table. “Hey. I’m a little new to this dating shit. Though we said we weren’t going to pursue a relationship, per se, if we did take this further, I wouldn’t be fucking anyone as long as we were fucking.” And I was honest enough with myself to admit that I’d wanted to fuck her from the first time I laid eyes on her.
“Holy shit,” she huffed.
