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“Are you kidding me? They’re so wildly inappropriate. I’m so sorry about all that. I mean, God! My grandma felt you up.” I drop by gaze, unable to hold eye contact.
Ryan’s laughter fills the cab of the truck. “They’re great. I wish my grandparents were still alive,” he says wistfully. “But, I’ll be honest, even if they were, I don’t recall them ever acting like that. Your family is unique.”
“Unique. That’s a polite way of saying batshit crazy.”
“It is not. I liked them.” He draws his attention away from the road for just a second. “Honest.”
“Then you must be a little batshit crazy yourself,” I add humorously.
When I’m greeted with more laughter, I finally allow myself to smile and relax.
“You might be a little right, but I’ve discovered that sometimes a little crazy is just what you need.” He looks over once more and winks before returning his attention back to the road.
The ride is filled with pleasant silence as we make our way towards our destination, which he has yet to share with me. All of the shops in downtown are closed up for the night, with the exception of the occasional bar or restaurant. We bypass all of them though, and head towards the east edge of town.
Lights reflect off the Bay as we pull into one of Jupiter Bay’s finest steakhouses. It’s situated along the water with floor to ceiling windows along three sides. A large wooden deck spans the entire length of the building and butts right up against the coastline. It used to be one of my favorite places when I was younger, but since my return, I’ve only eaten here once. I’m surprisingly excited for dinner.
With Ryan.
He comes around to the passenger side and helps me down from the truck. I’m glad I settled on the dress. Even though it’s casual and the atmosphere laid back, it’s the perfect fit for dinner along the Bay.
Hand in hand, we make our way to the large wooden front door of Helena’s. As we approach the hostess, I take in the low lighting and the busy dining room. Even the outdoor deck appears to have several occupied tables, though it’s in the upper fifties.
“Reservation for Elson.” His smooth, velvety voice rockets through my body, sending tingles of awareness to settle directly between my legs. His voice is an aphrodisiac for the hormonally challenged.
“Right this way, sir.”
The older woman leads us through the dining room to the back area. An empty table is situated in the corner, surrounding us with glass on two sides. The tables are just far enough apart that you can hold a private conversation without everyone around you knowing your business.
Ryan’s hand on my lower back shocks me. Not in surprise, but in comfort. Natural. It’s intimate and does even more damage to my frayed and neglected lady parts than his voice.
“I didn’t get a chance to tell you yet, but you look beautiful tonight,” he says after taking his seat across from me.
“You didn’t get a chance because you were being grilled about protection from my grandpa,” I state with a smile. I’m rewarded with one in return as I add, “And thank you. You look very nice yourself.”
Truth is he’s frickin’ hot! But I can’t say that. Not today, not ever. He’s just the type of guy I should be avoiding. Gorgeous, cocky, one who will evoke the desire to throw caution to the wind, along with my panties.
I squirm a little in my seat as we order drinks and an appetizer. Ryan’s attention is one hundred percent devoted to me, which is a pleasant change from Gavin. His nose was always in his phone or attention given to someone around us. Even when he was sitting right in front of me, it always felt like he was only there in body, not in mind.
“Tell me a little about yourself,” he encourages as he takes a drink from the beer bottle the server just delivered. “I know you work at your sister’s flower shop, or have for a week.”
“Yes, it was my first week and it was harder than I thought it’d be. I’ll have to stop teasing Pay so much about the simplicity of working with flowers.” There’s a long silence at the end of my statement as if I don’t quite know what to say next.
“That’s it? That’s all you’re gonna give me?” he asks, a single eyebrow arched upward.
“What do you want to know?” But I really don’t want to hear the answer to my question.
“Well, let’s see. You live with your inappropriate grandparents and dad. There’s more there, I’m sure.”
Twisting my wine glass between my fingers, I contemplate how much I want to reveal. “I’m the second to oldest of six, all girls. My mom died when I was fourteen from ovarian cancer. My dad, who’s a pilot, was gone a lot for work, and when my mom died, he needed help. Her parents moved across town and into our home to help raise me and my sisters so my dad could still provide for us.”
“That’s very admirable of them. I’m sure your dad appreciated it.”
“Oh, he did. He changed jobs, though, about a year after she died. He went from commercial airlines to private jets. The pay was better and he wasn’t gone quite as much.”
“I’m sorry to hear about your mom.”
“Thank you,” I whisper, trapped in the sincerity in his eyes.
