She nodded. "I get off at five."
"I’ll see you then," I said.
She smiled, a real one this time, and started the engine. I watched her taillights fade, then stood there in the chilly air.
For the first time in my long, weird life, I felt something akin to hope. I wanted to see where this would go, even if it scared the shit out of me.
Sunday couldn’t come soon enough.
Chapter 4
Krystal
The last hourof my shift dragged on like time was getting ready to move backward. At the same time, it was charged with a nervous energy I couldn’t shake. I worked the cloth across the counter, pausing every so often to realign the caddies of straws and napkins, anything to keep my hands busy. Across the room, Zaden was restocking the top shelf, his focus split between the liquor bottles and the handful of regulars at the bar. Every time he moved, I felt it, a small pull under my skin. That was still odd to me because my wolf didn’t respond to him like my human half did.
Still, I was going out with him tonight. As friends, because I couldn’t get wrapped up in someone who wasn’t my mate.
I’d gone all out tonight, even though this wasnota date. I’d shaved my legs so closely I felt practically aerodynamic. My hair was in loose waves that I’d coaxed from a YouTube tutorial, and my makeup was good enough to make me look like I’d slept eight hours, even though I hadn’t. All of it was for me, I told myself, to prove I still could. That I still had it. Whatever "it" was.
At the far end of the bar, Angel caught my eye and smirked. She mouthed, "A date?" then waggled her brows. I rolled my eyes and focused on the ancient wood of the countertop, tracing a scar in the finish that looked like a lightning bolt.
I’d sworn off men for good reasons. Since Bryce, every guy I’d dated was either allergic to kids or addicted to his own reflection. The last one had bailed after three months, leaving behind a half-used tube of hair gel and a text. "I’m not cut out for the stepdad life." As if I’d asked for a stepdad. I’d only wanted a dinner companion who didn’t flinch at the sight of a baby bottle in the sink. I’d stopped trying.
But Zaden hadn’t flinched when I mentioned Bryce. He’d smiled, really smiled, as if the idea of a kid wasn’t baggage, but a bonus.
I watched him now, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, muscles flexing as he shelved a case of whiskey. He made small talk with a pair of off-duty paramedics at the corner table, one foot propped up on the rung of a barstool, easy and unhurried. The man didn’t have a nervous bone in his body. His confidence radiated, not in the arrogant way, but in the way of someone who’d seen enough of the world to know nothing in it could really shake him.
I finished my end-of-shift duties and double-checked the tip jar. It was heavy. Heck yes. We'd had a good night. I pocketed my share, leaving the rest for Angel, and moved to the end of the bar, facing him, unsure what to do with my hands.
He noticed me right away, of course. "All set?" he asked, his eyes shining a little in the dim light.
"Yeah. Do you want me to take out the trash before I go?" I sounded too bright, my voice was almost brittle.
He shook his head. "Kenneth’s got it. You’re officially off the clock."
I hesitated, feeling the weight of expectation in the pause. "So what’s the plan?"
He grinned, and the boyishness of it did things to my insides. "You’ll see. Go get changed, unless you want to hit the town in those." He pointed at my black work pants, which bore the evidence of a spilled pitcher and a splash of ranch.
"Give me ten minutes," I said as I ducked into the staff hallway.
The bathroom stall was barely wide enough to turn around in, but I made it work. I peeled off the beer-splashed shirt and wriggled into the jeans and top I’d stashed in my locker. The jeans had a seam up the center that made my legs look longer, and the top I'd brought was a slippery blue material that didn't wrinkle and dipped lower into my cleavage than anything I’d worn in a year. I ran a brush through my hair, reapplied lip gloss, and forced myself to chill for a full minute before stepping back into the hall.
I didn’t know where Zaden was taking me, and I hated not knowing. The last time I’d let someone else steer a date, I’d ended up at a karaoke bar in Sevierville, belting "Zombie" by the Cranberries to a roomful of drunk contractors. I wanted to be excited, but mostly I was scared of this going as spectacularly badly as all the others had.
When I walked out, he was waiting at the end of the corridor, leaning against the doorframe. His eyes swept over me, slow and deliberate, but not in the predatory way I’d braced for. Itwas more like he was appreciating a new painting, trying to memorize the colors.
"Wow," he said, and there was a warmth in the word that made me blush.
I shrugged, feigning nonchalance. "It’s just jeans."
He shook his head. "No, it’s not."
That threw me. Zaden was proving more and more that he was different from any of the guys I’ve gone out with. "So, where are we going? I warn you, if this is a prank–"
He held up a hand, surrendering. "No pranks. But you’ll need this."
He held out a leather jacket that looked about my size. Surely he hadn’t bought it for me. "You didn’t have to get me a jacket."
