“She didn’t?”
“There were visits every once in a while. They became less and less frequent. I got older and madder, and when I was sixteen, I told her I didn’t want to see her anymore.”
Sophie’s chest tightened with an all-too-familiar ache. She battled it, tamped down the anger that always came with it, this time on his behalf as well as hers.
Not now. Not on this perfect date.
Managing a squeeze of support on his thigh, she discreetly turned her head away, as if the headlights of the cars crossing the mile-long bridge in the distance had caught her attention. In truth, she didn’t want him to see if her eyes glistened suspiciously.
“I’ll never understand how a person can just walk away from her family,” he said. “Her kid. Her own flesh and blood. You know?”
God yes.
She stood, as if the view of the water in the dark was better from two feet closer, when she was really fighting hard against everything inside of her that was trying to get out.
Nate came up next to her. Didn’t touch her except where his upper arm barely brushed her shoulder. “I guess … yeah. Maybe you do know?” he said.
Jaw clamped tightly, she bit down on her tongue, zeroing in on the physical pain because that she was in control of. That she could handle. The tempest inside caught her off guard — it’d been ages since she’d allowed the feelings to invade this much. Ages for everything except the anger, because getting mad was easy.
“How old were you when your dad left?” Nate asked quietly.
No. She wasn’t going there. Wasn’t answering that question, because then there’d be another … and another. And all of the answers would rip her open little by little.
Her pulse pounded in her throat and at her temples, and she sucked in the cool night air slowly, discreetly. Deeply. Willed the pounding to ease and frantically tried to come up with a way to avoid this topic that she’d never gone into with anyone.
“Sophie?” Again, he wove their fingers together.
She turned toward him, looked up at his handsome, shadowed face. His eyes that stared questioningly back at hers. His lips. Standing on tiptoe, she kissed him, eager to taste him again and, yes, eager to distract him.
Within seconds, she was distracted herself, caught up in the warmth of his breath, the taste of his tongue, the feel of his hand on the back of her neck, gentle at first, then drawing her closer. Her senses were overcome with him, the hint of chocolate on his breath, the heat of his hands and his mouth, the quiet sounds he made as they explored and caressed each other.
Nate was torn. On the one hand, he wanted to kiss this woman for a month or so without stopping. On the other, he wasn’t an idiot. He could read signs, and he was getting a big, fat disconnect on the conversation he’d tried to have.
He’d always been a big fan of compromising, which was why he spent a good few minutes devouring her mouth and relishing her sweet taste, her sexy little noises. Each time they came up for air, he tried to convince himself to pull back, but it took several attempts.
“Soph,” he finally said, still nibbling at her delectable lips.
“Yes?” Her voice was a sexy purr.
“Don’t think I didn’t notice that.”
“Notice what?”
By sheer force of will, he took a half a step back so their bodies were no longer touching. He entwined their fingers, both hands, and leaned his forehead into hers, unable to break the connection fully. “The way you dodged that conversation. About your dad,” he said gently.
After witnessing the phone call from the guy the other day in the hospital, Nate was curious as hell. Mystified that she was so hateful of him. Sophie didn’t seem like a hateful person. Admittedly, he didn’t know her very well in some ways, but in others, he felt like he’d known her for years. And that only made him want to understand the story between her and her father that much more. She must have good reasons for feeling the way she did. It was an unfamiliar thing — wanting to understand every single facet of this woman and her life. Foreign territory for a guy who’d always been content to play the field and avoid getting hooked at all costs.
Seemed he’d gotten hooked the second he’d seen her terrified, determined brown eyes in the fire.
“I… Yeah,” she said. “I don’t talk about him.” There was no apology in her voice whatsoever.
Nate nudged her chin upward with his fingers so she met his gaze. “I want to know you, Sophie.” He bit down on anything else that might pop out of his mouth. He didn’t want to freak her out, and frankly, his feelings were freaking him out more than a little.
“You’ve seen me at my worst,” she said with a half grin. “That’s more than ninety-nine percent of people ever get to know.”
He couldn’t make himself smile back. And yet he couldn’t say what he wanted to. He’d like to avoid the label of creeper at all costs.
“Nate, we met less than ten days ago. I’m not good at this. Opening up—”
