She lifts her shoulders casually and picks at the corner of her napkin. “My mom, she was…an addict. She’d get clean but then find herself back with old friends and diving into old habits. I didn’t know my dad, and I’m pretty sure she didn’t either. I bounced between living with my grandparents and my mom until I was about thirteen, and then finally stayed with them.
“I remember when I was about fourteen or fifteen, I was in my room doing homework and heard a ruckus downstairs. I went to find out what was going on and found my grandpa in the bathroom, bleeding everywhere. He had cut his hand in the garage, and it was pretty deep. I grabbed a towel and applied pressure, remembering something I had read in health class about slowing the bleeding.
“I didn’t have my license yet and he couldn’t drive, so I ran next door to the neighbor’s house and got Mr. Wilson to take us to the ER. By the time we got there, I had the bleeding all but stopped, and the doctor was so impressed, he let me watch them clean up his hand and put twelve stitches in his palm. I realized right then, I wanted to help people and nursing was a good fit.”
Something crosses her features, but I can’t really pinpoint what it is. It’s a mixture of sadness and longing, perhaps, but that doesn’t really make sense, since she set out to become and nurse and made it happen.
Any further conversation about it is halted by the arrival of our appetizers. “Here you are,” Taylor says, setting the basket of fresh, warm breadsticks with cheddar cheese dipping sauce next to a small plate of three pepperollies with marinara sauce. “Plates,” she adds, placing two small plates on the table too.
“Thanks, Taylor,” I state, preparing to dive in.
Our server nods. “Be back shortly with your pizza.”
“Oh my goodness, what are those?” Oaklee asks, pointing to the plated appetizer.
“These are pepperollies. Like a mini pepperoni pizza, rolled up and baked,” I state, placing one on each of our plates and then adding a scoop of marinara dipping sauce.
“They smell heavenly.”
“And they taste even better,” I announce, taking a huge bite. “They’re my favorite appetizer,” I add, trying to cover my mouth as I talk and chew at the same time. My mom would tan my hide if she saw me talking with my mouth full, but sometimes, hunger overrules manners.
“Oh my God,” she sings, her eyes wide as she chews. “These are…wow,” she adds, covering her mouth with her hand like I did.
“Exactly. Best date ever, huh?” I ask, offering a cheesy grin as I prepare to devour a breadstick. “Mario and his crew make these fresh.”
She takes a breadstick and dips it in cheese sauce before enjoying her first bite. “I could probably just eat these for my meal and die a very happy, overweight woman.”
I snort and smother part of a breadstick with cheese. “I hear ya.”
“Carbs make me happy,” she replies with a shrug. “My hips may not like them, but I sure do.”
My eyes drop to what I can see above the table, and even though it’s not a lot, I sure as fuck like it. Her hourglass shape is one of the first things that drew me to her the night we met, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit here and let her think men only want model-skinny women with no ass or tits. “I think carbs look good on you,” I tell her.
She rolls her eyes. “If you say so.”
“I do,” I reply emphatically. “And I’m always right, trust me. Both of my brothers and my sister may not agree, but they know the truth. If I say something, it’s true, and you, beautiful Oaklee, are absolutely perfect the way you are. I say, eat the carbs. There are only a few true joys in life, and let’s be honest, pizza and breadsticks are definitely near the top of the list.”
She grins. “But not at the top?”
“Nope,” I tell her, drenching the tip of my pepperollie in marinara. “That’s reserved for an activity with much fewer clothes.” I wink and watch as it, along with my words, trigger a blush.
“Here we are,” Mario announces, interrupting our conversation. “My very best pie with all your favorite toppings.” He levels me with a pointed look. “And extra premium cheese, because I’m not a cheap bastard.”
I bark out a laugh and take the spatula he offers. “Thanks, Mario.”
“Enjoy. Holler if you need anything else,” he says before retreating to the kitchen and leaving us alone once more.
I scoop up the first slice and place it on her plate. Her eyes dance with excitement as she reaches for the Parmesan cheese and sprinkles some on the top of her slice. “I have a feeling this is about to be life-changing.”
Grinning, I take my own slice before giving her my attention. “Completely agree, beautiful Oaklee. Completely agree.” I can tell she knows I’m not talking about the pizza, and that makes me happy.
Feeding her makes me happy.
Being near her does the same.
I’ve never felt this comfortable around a woman before, but do you know what? It doesn’t scare me or bother me.
In fact, it fuels my need to see her smile, and right now, that includes feeding her, so that’s where my focus will lie for the time being. The last thing I’d want to do is freak her out because I’m thinking about stripping her naked, having my wicked way with her, and making her stay afterward. She just got out of a serious relationship, remember?
