I grab her elbow hard enough to let her know I’m not going to let her fall, but soft enough that she knows she can get free. I’ve seen her little tells. The way she’ll flinch if someone gets too loud. The hitch in her breathing when someone gets too close too fast. The way she looks around before she says anything, even the smallest answer to a simple question.
It’s not a mystery to me that someone abused her. Until she wants to tell me more, I’m letting her set the pace.
Even though it might kill me.
And my cock is about to fucking mutiny.
“Yeah,” I breathe out, “a date. But no pressure or anything. Have you ever been on the back of a bike?”
I search the expression on her face as we stop in front of Stan’s house. The lights are off because he’s still at Dolly’s Place. He loves the diner which his mom spent years lovingly creating and building.
He says he runs it now to honor his mom, but I think it’s just as much for himself as her memory. Not like he would ever admit it.
“No,” she chuckles the word as if the question is ridiculous, “I’ve never been on the back of a bike.”
“Can I show you? I promise,” I step closer to her, feeling the heat of her and wishing I could reach out and grip the curve of her hip to ground myself, “to keep you safe.”
“I know you will, Turner,” she whispers the words, but I can see the uncertainty written on her face.
I’m bracing for impact, for her telling me she’s not ready and can’t go with me. I wouldn’t blame her; I’ve been telling myself to take this slowly and now look at me. No, I wouldn’t blame her at all.
“Okay,” she whispers.
For a moment, everything freezes around us. There is only us.
And the way the light hits her hazel eyes.
And the way the breeze is blowing the tendrils of her dark hair around her face with a gentleness that makes me jealous.
I can’t help but crack a grin and confirm, “Yeah?”
“Yeah,” her voice is stronger this time and it does something funny to my heart.
Trying to keep it cool right now is nearly impossible. Fucking hell.
“I’m looking forward to it,” she offers the words like the gift they are.
“Me too,” I whisper.
When I lean forward and press a gentle kiss to her forehead her eyes drift closed like she can’t fight against the feeling of contentment wrapping around her. It’s a start.
I’m going to make sure my Graycie knows she has a family at her back, the love of a biker who will do anything for her, and a future that can look however she wants it to look. I just need a little bit of time.
And maybe some luck.
CHAPTER 9
GRAYCIE
Opal is on her belly on my bed, with her hands under her chin and her feet kicked up behind her. The amusement written all over her face as I flit back and forth trying to figure out what I should wear on my ‘date that’s not a date’ is annoying. I kind of want to smack the look off her face, but I know it’s coming from a place of love.
I think.
Well, I’m pretty sure.
I turn toward her and slam my hands down on my hips. “You are not being helpful at all,” my voice comes out far whinier than I want it to.
“I wasn’t aware you invited me over to be helpful,” she teases me.
