“I don’t like this.” Setting her fork down, Nova reclines in her chair and traces her bottom lip with the tip of her finger.
Her tilting brow draws me back to here, to now, and to realizing I’ve not been paying attention.
Shit.
“I mention Santaone time, and now you’re looking at me like I have three heads.”
“No. I’m sorry.” I give up on my barely touched dinner and rest my elbows on the table. “I got caught up thinking about some other stuff.”
“Yeah.” She smirks. “Things like how weird and whiny you think I am. It’s beentwo whole weekssince the accident. It’s time I stopped banging on about it, right?”
“Fuck no.” I shove my meal aside and reach across, laying my hand beside her plate. “That wasn’t about you, Nova. I have a million things on my mind, but never,ever, do I think you’re weird or whiny or anything except perfect.” I wiggle my fingers, prompting her to consider my hand. “I promise. You weretalking about Ryan and war, and I guess I just…” I breathe a little easier when she hesitantly lays her palm on mine. “I got introspective. And now I feel like a giant asshole.”
“Is it annoying that I talk about him so much?” She blinks once, twice, three times, beating back the tears pooling in the corners of her eyes. “I bet it’s irritating.”
“It’s absolutely not.” I stand and toss my napkin onto my seat. Coming around the table, her hand trapped securely in mine, I thrill in the way she folds her neck and searches my eyes. “Let’s get out of here.”
“You wanna dine and dash?” Only half-teasing, she glances past me. “They know me here, Linc. Stealing sounds fun and all, but Elio would for sure be at the bank first thing in the morning to collect. I’m not opposed to making a scene—like sprinting across a dealership parking lot in a dress on a breezy day—but stealing chicken pasta and letting my boss find out about it is not…” She focuses on me again, her eyes dancing playfully. “It’s not a good look.”
“We’re not dining and dashing.” I reach into her lap and toss her napkin aside, then I tug her to her feet and pull her firmly against my chest.
Her breath races from her lungs at the impact, her sweet exhale delicious on my tongue.
“I’m paying on the way out,” I murmur, so fucking close, I feel her pulse under my skin. “Then we’re going for a walk.”
“A walk…” She hesitates, rolling her plump bottom lip. “Off a plank? Or into the mountains where women go to die?”
“Or, third option?” I chuckle. “We buy gelato from that staring kid and wander Main Street until the mosquitoes suck us dry.”
Her eyes darken with deviousness. “This is a first date, Lincoln, and I’m a lady. There will be no sucking tonight. I thought you were a gentleman?”
“Ya know, I can’t honestly decide if I prefer you sad and a little quiet, or happy and ridiculously fucking obsessed with provoking me.” Backing away, I turn and lead her toward the register by the front doors. Paying and tipping, I ignore the kid’s looks of horror—who leaves that much food behind?
Finally, I order us a cup of gelato each and drag her into the dark outside. The instant the heavy glass door closes behind us, I exhale today’s stress and inhale fresh mountain air andNova Nicholsinstead. Her pure and complete perfection. Her delicious scent and that strange ability she has that fills those spots inside me and,magically, calms my nervous heart.
“Will you tell me about your sister?”
And there it goes again, my peace, bouncing along my throat in choking exhales. Sauntering along Main Street and scooping ice cream onto her tongue, she finds my Kryptonite so fucking easily and makes it all seem horrifyingly innocent.
“Hmm?”
“Scarlett’s younger, right?” She licks chocolate off her lips and grins under the pretty strings of light strung from one power pole to the next. “You give me older brother vibes.”
“Yes, she’s younger.” I reach out and snag her purse from between her arm and ribs. Her brows knit with confusion, her steps faltering. But when I tuck it into my back pocket, freeing up her hands, she relaxes again. “She’s six years younger than I am…”Shut up. Shut up. Shut the fuck up!“She lives out near Denver, Colorado, and cleans for the wealthy.” Hesitantly, I glance across and catch her eyes. “There was a time I felt thatwasn’t good enough for her—picking up other people’s shit. Being ‘the help.’ It was difficult for me to accept that she goes into other people’s homes and cleans their toilets for a living.”
“Makes you sound like a snob.” Her lips quirk up on the side. “Work is work, and independence is more important than a job title.”
“I know.” I slide the flat end of my spoon through my dessert and take a moment tonotlook into her eyes. “It wasn’t really about snobbery or pride. It was about safety. I worried about her being in these homes, because rich white men are…” I shake my head, grinning. “Bottom of society’s barrel.”
“Are you not also a wealthy white man?” she teases. “I know your financial situation, Mr. Castro. I saw your loan application. You’re no Scrooge McDuck, but you’re comfortable.”
“And guys like me are absolute fucking pigs,” I counter seriously. “Middle-aged married men sometimes get bored with what they have, so they try their luck with younger employees. Scar was barely twenty when she started. She’s beautiful, and in their minds, they probably figure sheneedsthe money. This creates a power imbalance that pisses me off.”
“Has she ever been attacked on the job?”
“No.” I lay my spoon on my tongue and drag the ice cream free. “My worry was unnecessary, because her taste in clients is impeccable. They essentially make her part of the family.”
All except that one guy. That one time.
