“What changed your mind?”
“She got sick.” The way she says it, I already know it’s not the type of sickness you get over quickly.
“I’m sorry.” I grab her hand as she plays with her knife and get a small smile out of her when I rub my thumb over her knuckles.
“It’s okay. The hospital became a second home. The nursing staff kept us all going until the end, and I realized I wanted to be part of the group that helped others like that.”
“Like a giveback.”
She nods. “Yeah, I guess so. What about you? You always wanted to be a biker?”
Now it’s my turn to give a small smile. “I was actually a lawyer.”
“Really? Why the change?”
I shake my head. “Not sure. Guess I just wanted to join the club more.” I leave out that apparently it was because I met a girl. I’m not sure if that’s what happened, just what I was told.
“I can’t see you as a lawyer,” she says with a giggle.
I smirk. “What? Don’t think I can pull off a suit?”
“You might, but you look better in leather.” She pulls her hand away and covers her mouth as red creeps up her neck and to the top of her ears.
I don’t know who’s more shocked by her words. I know I look good in this shit, but hearing it out of her mouth does all sorts of things to me. Including getting my dick hard.
“Here we are,” the waiter says as he delivers our meals. Lucky timing. I was about to go into full interrogation mode about what else she thinks I look good in.
“Thanks,” she whispers before he leaves.
“Thank God you aren’t a vegetarian,” I mumble louder than I mean to as I look at the giant steak on her plate that matches my own.
“Oh no, I love the meat.”
I pause mid-bite and look at her, seeing she’s also frozen.
I raise an eyebrow and can’t help but ask, “Just like you like me in leather?”
Chapter 7 - Diana
“Ahh! Why am I so bad at this?”
“Because you aren’t using your hips.”
“What?” I turn and look at Karter like he’s lost his damn mind. Because he has. Mini golf doesn’t require hip movement. How can it? I just swing a tiny club and hit a ball that gets bounced all over the place till it finally finds its home in the hole that’s under a damn windmill.
“Your hips.” He saunters over to me and grabs my hips, moving them around till I’m facing the ball again and not where I started six strokes ago.
Yeah, I’m horrible at mini golf. I’ve never played before, but I understand the concept well enough. When he suggested it after dinner, I figured it could be fun. It was either this or axe throwing. And I have nothing against axe throwing. The wait for a bay was over an hour, though, and I do have work tomorrow. I didn’t want to stay out too late.
Nana was right about my curfew time. Which sucks. I would like to think I wasn’t a responsible adult and could willingly just stay out all night long, but I’m not the type. Never could do all-night movie marathons or stay in line all night waiting for tickets to something. I’m home in bed by eleven and getting my full six hours no matter what.
Six might not be the best, but if I can get that much, I can work the rest off with caffeine in any form and thepressure from both angry patients and doctors. Both get my blood pumping more than a three-shot espresso could ever do.
He gets close. Like “I can feel every part of him behind me” close. My breath catches in my throat for a second as his hands glide over my hips a bit before he moves them up to my arms, bending me over just a little as he guides me into position.
“Most people think that if you just swing hard enough, it’ll work. That might be the case if we were playing actual golf, but this is mini golf, which makes it all about finesse and slow movements. You feel that?”
He’s all over me, though not in a creepy way, more like cuddled around me to keep me safe. But safe is the last thing on my mind as he moves my club back and forth as if I’m going to swing.
