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“This okay?” she asks after a beat, and she sounds so breathless.
“Yeah.” Okay?Okay?A cheap drive-through burrito isokay.Having Danielle slung across my lap is a revelation. “You’re good.”
Danielle hums, and my arms squeeze her tighter. Don’t ever want to let her go—even with the locals doing a double take when they walk past and see us. Even with folks staring and gossiping behind their hands. I don’t care if every soul here knows that she’s too good for me.
Maybe it’s selfish. Maybe I’m no better now than back when I did time.
But I want this woman. Want her plastered against me, giggling in my ear. Want her scent in my lungs and her heat seeping through my clothes.
This ain’t practice anymore. Not for me.
“Your future wife is gonna have the best time, Kingston.” My pretty little bartender scratches at my jaw, and I could swear that sadness flits across her blue eyes. There and gone—so fast I might’ve imagined it. “You don’t really need my help, you know. You’re already nailing this. Way better than…”
She trails off, eyes rounding in horror, but it’s clear enough what she was gonna say. I play with a lock of her black, silky hair so she knows that it’s fine. I’m not offended. “Way better than you expected?”
An apologetic shrug. “I guess so. Yeah.”
See what I mean? She’s honest, even when it’s easier to lie. And Danielle’s never cruel about it, always framing things so people’s feelings don’t get hurt, but she never bullshits either. What she thinks is what you get.
“Because I’m a mean old ex-con?”
My girl puffs out a strained laugh. And this is a tough conversation, no two ways about it, but we’re still playing with each other’s hair. Connected. Reassuring each other without words.
“Maybe,” Danielle admits. “At first glance, anyway. But do you want to hear my theory?”
My heart knocks against my rib cage. “Always.”
“I think you like it, Kingston Holt—having that bad reputation. I think you like keeping folks at arm’s length. People drain you.”
It takes a moment for me to recover, because yeah: this woman can read me like a road sign. But then I squeeze her gently, knocking her more firmly against my chest. Her soft flowery dress slithers over my thighs. “You’re not at arm’s length.Youdon’t drain me.”
“No.” Another happy sigh; another teasing smile of her pink lips. “Guess I don’t.”
“You never have, Danielle.”
A kiss brushes my cheek, so fast and light and yet shocking to my core. “It’s Dani,” she whispers in my ear. “The people I’m close to call me Dani.”
Well, drag my carcass over to the barbecue grill, because I’m done. I’m out. Dead as a dodo. She’s killed me.
“Hey, want to get a beer?” She’s already up, scrambling to her feet, and she won’t meet my eye. Embarrassed, I guess, though there’s no need to be. I boost her up then stagger upright behind her.
“I’m driving, butyoucan get a beer. There’s a cream soda somewhere with my name on it.”
Dani grabs my hand and drags me back toward the crowd. The air gets thicker again, hotter and busier, the racket pressing on my ear drums, but I can shake all that off with her fingers tangled in mine.
Is this still pretend for her? What is she getting out of this exactly?
And how the hell do I convince her to make it real?
* * *
Dropping Dani home is an exercise in self restraint. I pull up at the sidewalk outside her apartment, peering up and down the empty, moonlit street. When I kill the engine, we both sit in silence for a long moment. The truck clicks and groans and settles as it cools, and my mouth is suddenly dry. It’s long past midnight, but neither of us reach for our seat belts.
“So,” I say when I can’t bear the mounting tension for a second longer. I’m still gripping the steering wheel, holding on like it’s my personal life raft. “Any feedback?”
Dani breathes out a laugh and ducks her head. A curtain of dark hair swings forward, blocking my view of her blushing face. “Nope. It was a killer first date, boss. Your lady’s gonna love it.”
The only lady whose opinion I care about right now is sitting next to me. Fumbling her seat belt open and reaching for the passenger door handle.
