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“Me too,” I reply, a little shocked by the truth. I’d prepared myself for some awkwardness since I haven’t been on a date in three years. But with Thunder, everything slides into place as if it were always meant to be. As if Mac never happened. As if there’s more to life,to me, than I thought.
The only rough patch is when I attempt to pay the bill or at least half. “You’re my date,” he says, setting his jaw in a firm line. “I asked you out. So, I insist.”
I feel a twinge of irritation, the same itch I had when he said he wanted to protect me. I get that he’s a biker and all alpha male, but I don’t want to be coddled. My dad freaked out when I lost my hearing and treated me as if the loss turned me into glass. His hovering and smothering is part of what made it so hard for me to object when Mac did it. I was so used to being sheltered that Mac’s smothering seemed natural—an observation it took me two years of counseling to realize. I broke away from my father a year ago. All of his overprotective instincts went into overdrive when he found out about my Mac situation. It would have been easy to return home and hide away from life—but I didn’t. Living on my own, finding my own way, and learning to take care of myself has been the reward for all the punishment that was Mac.
Thunder makes me feel like he’d envelop me in a cocoon and take care of me for the rest of my life—a fairytale I no longer believe in. Now, I’m more interested in someone who trusts me to take care of myself.
After he pays, we leave the restaurant, stepping out onto a street that has turned chilly. This date was much longer than my regular lunch break, but when I texted Molly to tell her I was running late, she told me not to worry about it and to take the rest of the day off. Molly ran the coffee shop on her own for so long that she doesn’t mind giving me as much time as I need. Her fiancé, Rage, a biker like Thunder, wants her to work less, which is why they compromised, and she hired me. Usually, I’d feel guilty for taking advantage, but today I don’t, especially not when Thunder reaches out to take my hand. This time, I let him, enjoying the thrill that runs through me at his touch.
“I was nervous when I first asked you out,” he admits. “But now that I’m here with you, I never want to leave.”
My cheeks warm under his intense gaze. “I know what you mean,” I whisper, unable to look away from him.
Our eyes lock for a moment, the chemistry between us almost palpable. Then, Thunder leans closer, and his lips brush against mine in a soft, tentative kiss.
A kiss that leaves me feeling hot and bothered. I pull back, quickly ending the kiss and swallowing hard. Thunder looks at me with a confused expression, and I try to explain. “I’m sorry, I just wasn’t expecting that,” I say, my voice shaky. “I’m not used to this kind of thing.”
Thunder brushes it off, but he’s hurt. He tries to act nonchalant, but his eyes betray him. He thought I was ready, and now he’s disappointed. I want to kick myself for ruining the moment, but I can’t help it. I need to take it slow and not rush into anything.
We continue walking in silence for a while, his shoulders tense and his spine stiff. I feel Thunder’s eyes on me, and I’m afraid to look at him. I keep my eyes trained on the distance until I almost explode. When my eyes meet his, he apologizes. “I’m sorry if I overstepped. I just couldn’t help myself. You’re so beautiful, and I’ve been wanting to do that for a long time.”
I take a deep breath and move closer to him. “It’s not your fault,” I say. “I just need to take things slow.”
Thunder nods, and we continue walking. His hand brushes against mine, but I don’t take it. I’m not ready for physical contact yet. I want to be with him, and I hope that I can work through my issues and be the kind of partner he deserves.
* * *
As the sun sets, I sit in my small studio, staring at the blank canvas. I pull at my hair and glare at my paintbrushes. It’s the same glare I’ve given them and the canvas for hours, but it doesn’t work. Nothing does. My mind keeps wandering to Thunder. We ended our date with a smile, but some of the earlier lightness of the day had faded away. I chastise myself again for pushing him away, even while I’m giddy that he’s not going anywhere. His steadfastness should have me running for the hills, but it’s tempered with so much gentle patience that my nerves quiet. I turn back to the canvas, and now it returns my glare.
My shoulders roll back as I stand up and stretch my legs. The city’s soft lights beckon to me from the window, but my feet can’t stop pacing. With my fingers free, they tap relentlessly on my thighs until I grab my jacket and head for the door. It’s late at night, and my father would have a fit, but I need to get out of here. The walls seem to be closing in, like a scene from a horror movie where the room shrinks, trapping the heroine. Dammit.
The streetlights cast an eerie glow over everything as I hit the sidewalk. I pull my hood up over my hair, camouflaging myself with the night as I walk, enjoying the solitude and the cool autumn air against my skin, finally providing some relief.
The ground quakes with the rumble of an approaching motorcycle. I press against a building, trying to make myself as small as possible, hoping to go unnoticed.
But when the bike slows to a stop beside me, my heart pounds against my chest, and my hand grips air in my pocket as I wish I had a weapon. Then I see Thunder’s familiar silhouette sitting on the seat. He takes off his helmet, and the lines etched on his face in stark relief are a little intimidating.
We stare at each other for a long moment, a moment I use to take in more air through my flared nostrils when I remember to breathe again. “What the hell are you doing out here by yourself?” Although his lips are hard to read in the moonlight, the low timbre of his voice conveys his message clearly. He’s furious. He’s not Mac, I remind myself, and even if he is—I stand my ground. Before I can explain that I just needed to clear my head, he cuts me off. “It’s not safe to be walking around at night, Arabella. Anything could happen to you.”
I turn my face away. Though it probably wasn’t the smartest decision to be out walking alone at this time of night, I don’t appreciate his tone. I can’t quite hear it, but I sense it in the rigid set of his shoulders and the stony glint in his eyes. He’s not my father, and he’s definitely not Mac, but I’m also not that girl—the girl who apologized and let the men in her life control her in the name of protection.
I jump when he puts his hand on my shoulder, turning me back around. His fingers tilt my head up in the same move I use on him. I almost pull away, but the stony glint has softened enough to make me listen. “I’m just worried about you, Arabella. I don’t want anything to happen to you.”
His calloused thumb rubs the side of my cheek, and I turn my face into his palm, melting from the look in his eyes. “I appreciate your concern.” I struggle to find the right words, grappling with my conflicting emotions. I want to be independent, but at the same time, I would love to curl into his strong arms and let him take care of me. “But Thunder, I’m a big girl. If this relationship is going to go anywhere, you’ll have to give me space to make my own decisions, even if they’re the wrong ones.”
“What kind of man lets his woman make the wrong decision?”
“A man who trusts her.”
He balls his fists and looks away. When he faces me again, his eyes are stony once more. “I hear you. I do. But I can’t lie. That’s going to be a tough one for me. I believe in protecting the women in my life—my mom, my sister, the ladies at the shop, hell, even a stranger in a parking lot. I won’t stand by and let a woman be hurt, especially not one I care about.”
I steel myself against his words, resisting the urge to crumple at his feet. I know he’s won me over when he mentions his mom, sister, and a woman he cares about. When I don’t say anything, he sighs and asks, “Let me take you home,” gesturing towards his bike. I agree because he asked, which is entirely different from being ordered.
My palms sweat as I approach his bike. Memories of Mac flood back to me, and I tense up. It’s been a while since I’ve been on a motorcycle, and my legs freeze, refusing to go further. I try to come up with an excuse, but he reads the fear in my eyes.
“Arabella,” he reaches out to take my hand. “I promise you; I won’t let anything happen to you. Trust me.”
I bite my lip, considering his words. It’s a significant leap of faith to get on the back of a bike with someone again. I take a deep breath, pushing the memories of Mac to the back of my mind. Reminding myself that I already decided to trust Thunder when we went on our first date. “Okay,” I say, nodding my head. “Let’s do this.”
