“My place. Tonight. Come over whenever.”
I gulped. That could not have been a stronger invite if I tried. I couldn’t believe I was considering this.
And yet, as I thought about Lane, the individual, as I thought about my relationship with him, both professional and otherwise, a large part of it just felt right. It just felt like it made sense to go.
“Okay, send me your address.”
Lane
As soon as she said yes, I felt like I had a second chance to make things right.
I couldn’t help it. The more I was able to look past her role in the district attorney’s office, the more I saw her as an individual, the more I liked her. Even if we got to the moment of truth and I just didn’t know how to handle it, she would still make for a great friend and someone I wanted to keep around.
Obviously, Shannon still stuck in my mind rather strongly. The notion that I’d hook up with Angela and all would be completely normal was ridiculous, but it was equally ridiculous for me to say I couldn’t do anything with Angela just because of my past with Shannon. We were adults, and no one was being disrespected.
Just back out at any second if it doesn’t feel right. You know you can do that, and you’ll be fine. And you know she will too.
I didn’t think that would happen, though. I was just happy that my last memory of her wasn’t going to be her storming out of Brewskis in an uncontrolled hysteria, furious that she had made out with me.
There were benefits to her sleeping with me, don’t get me wrong. The club would benefit from having another member of the DA’s office on its side, but that wasn’t the reason I was doing this. I just genuinely liked the girl.
In fact, in some ways, she might just... well, it was blasphemous to say, but she might be an even better fit for me than Shannon. Angela set firmer boundaries and was more straightforward and was just as passionate about making a difference. It was way too early, of course, to actually say that, but the thought did cross my mind.
Be careful, though. Getting a little clouds-in-the-sky right now because she’s a great girl. Just be careful not to hurt your club in the process.
Quite a lot of changes happening in my world these days, though, and mostly for the better.
I told Angela to come over and had two bottles of wine waiting on the kitchen table just as I heard her car pull up to my apartment. I was wearing a black v-neck shirt, some gray shorts, and some sandals. I looked properly casual yet not sloppy. I suppose I could have looked more “club official,” but this wasn’t church, this was having a nice date with a nice lady.
I heard the knock on my door, which made my heart skip a beat. This, in itself, felt a little crazy. I was pretty sure if not for the drama of nearly losing her and then surprisingly getting her back, this wouldn’t have happened.
I opened the door, and there stood Angela. She wore a low-crop black dress that showed off her cleavage mighty well and jeans that shaped perfectly around her pear-shaped ass. My best hopes for how her body had looked had come true, and I did my best not to show how pleasantly happy I was to see how sexy she looked.
I couldn’t totally account for it, though—some bodily reactions couldn’t be handled.
“Well, hello there,” I said, hugging her.
We didn’t kiss, but I wasn’t worried about that. It probably would have felt like too much if I’d tried to kiss her immediately. Better to let it build and let things settle back into the groove.
“Nice place,” she said with a gentle smile as she pulled back from the hug and went to the table. “And you got wine? Do I see some Chardonnay?”
“Indeed,” I said. “Is that your favorite?”
“Did you know?”
She wasn’t quite as flirtatious as she had been at Brewskis, but then again, she had been extraordinarily flirtatious at Brewskis. I think it was much more accurate to say that she was trying to feel her way out, that she was keeping her guard up in case she decided to back out.
“Lucky guess, I’d imagine,” I said with a shrug.
Though it still hurt like hell in my left shoulder, it was not as deep into the depths of hell as before. Now, it just sort of annoyed me, not felt like it was going to break every time I lifted my arm up.Promising if things get hot and heavy.
“Come on, let’s head to the couch,” I said. “Let’s take a seat.”
“Well, I gotta have some wine first,” she said with a slight smirk. “I mean, I assume you’re not just going to withhold the wine, right?”
“Oh, right,” I said, rubbing my hair with my hand, feeling slightly embarrassed that it might have looked like I was rushing things. “Yeah, let me, uh, let me open that.”
I never feel rushed and nervous. I’m supposed to be acting cocky and arrogant. What the hell is going on?
