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No…when Momsoldme.
I couldn’t help the shiver that jolted through me as I fought for control of the flashing images. I would not let that leak into this. No. No. No!
“Shhh, I got you, girl. I got you.” He held me tighter.
“Don’t ever let me go.”
Chapter Nineteen
Drey
“Wellyouknowhowto start a date.” Beneath the table I clenched my sore hand. Damn asshole had an iron jaw.
“Sonothow I envisioned this starting out,” Sarah said.
“Doesn’t matter. We’re good. We’re here. You’re beautiful.” I reached across the small table and snagged her hand. “And strong. I saw your moves there with that first guy.”
“You did?”
“Hell yeah. I got here earlier than I’d planned, so I was coming down to meet you.”Damn good thing, too. “Did you learn those moves from Hunter?”
She nodded but was still visibly shaken.
“You want to call it a night? I’d understand. That’s nasty shit to deal with. Adrenaline rush and all. Better yet, you need food. We can get some to go.”
“No. I’m good. I—want to stay.” She took in a deep breath. “Thanks for being there.”
“Anytime. Wait, I take that back, I’d rather not see that again.”
“Ditto. But I get what you mean.” She let out that big breath and sat back. “Might need a glass of wine…or four.”
“On it.” I waved a waiter down, and we put in our order.
“You okay?” she asked.
As if on cue, my cheek pulsed. “Jerk snuck one in.”
“Yeah. Well, he almost made me break my new shoes.”
“Can’t have that. Those are kick-ass. And you really do look great. Very…kissable.” I winked and leaned back in my chair.
She grinned, her green eyes twinkling.
“So, why’d you pick this place?” I’d been in here only a couple times, and that’d been ages ago when I had…money.
“The owner…she’s nice.” The waiter brought our wine, and we put in our order. “Her name’s Gin.”
“As in the drink or…”
“The drink.” She held up her glass. “Kind of a recovery thing I think. Cheers.”
“To.”
“Firsts.” She clanked my glass. I sure as hell hoped that meant first kisses. Her shiny lips, tight dress, and those sexy heels had my body roaring for a little contact with her.
“I’ll drink to that.”
We fell into light conversation about our day, and it felt…normal. Like this was what normal couples did. Nothing mattered, not the fact that I was a former gang member still surrounded by daily reminders of all that’d gone wrong with that. Not that she was a survivor of something terrible she’d yet to share with me. Not that we were dirt poor. At least I was, but I was starting to second-guess the assumption that she was poor, judging by the killer outfit and expensive dinner tonight.
