“Did you fly in helicopters?” I inquire, intrigued.
I feel her smile. “Yes.”
“That’s badass.”
“I loved it.”
“You’re done?” I lean back to look at her.
“I was medically discharged. Two years ago. It was difficult to accept my career was over.” Simone presses herself back against me, burying her face in my neck as if hiding.
“What do you do now?” I keep the conversation going, eager for any morsel of information I can draw from her.
“Volunteer at a hospital in Charlotte. In the emergency room. I like the environment.”
“A bit tumultuous, no?”
“Yes. And never a dull moment. It keeps me on my toes. I have a nursing degree, so it lets me utilize my skills with no commitments.”
“Are you afraid of commitment?” I fish.
“I didn't used to be. But my life changed dramatically when I got out. I'm not the same person I was.”
“I like the person I'm dancing with right now,” I murmur.
“You don't know anything about me,” she persists with the same old argument.
“Yes, you keep saying that. But I beg to differ. I know you grew up in Las Vegas. Your mother was a showgirl. You like MMA fights. You can surf. You’re dedicated to this organization. You’re smart, strong, and if I broke a bone, you could fix me.” I grin down at her proudly. I pay attention.
“I could splint you, but without plaster, you're up shit’s creek without a paddle.”
“I accept those odds.” I drop my forehead to hers and inhale her flowery scent. Mmmm. Being with Simone is too easy. Too inviting. I inch my mouth closer to hers, the movement as natural as breathing.
“Ty,” she utters my name just as our lips meet. It's a chemical reaction. A slow, soft kiss that charges with heat. Trapping her face with my hands, I deepen the embrace. I’ve dreamed incessantly about kissing this woman again, and it's every bit as insane and irrational and amazing as it was six months ago.
“Ty.” Simone grabs my wrists and breaks the kiss, her breathing labored.
I exhale heavily. “I may not survive this night if you don't agree to come home with me.”
“That’s not going to happen.” She shakes her head, licking her wet lips.
“I know you want to. I know you want to be with me,” I push.
“What I want is irrelevant. It's what I'm capable of that matters.”
“What are you capable of?” I question, dying to know.
“Not much. This. This is about my threshold.” We continue to sway to the music.
I search her eyes. “What’s holding you back?”
“Way too many things. Don't waste your time with me, Ty. End it here,” she pleads.
“I can’t. This feels right, and I know you know that, too.”
The look on her stunning face is heartbreaking. Before I can argue, a man’s voice is broadcasting over the speakers.
“Ladies and gentlemen, if you’ll take your seats, the first course is about to be served.”
