Fuck me, that is a look I always want on her face.
Triple shit.
I clear my throat, and I ask, “Would you go for a walk with me?” and she looks at me, her mouth parting slightly, and I can see the denial on the tip of her tongue, the fear of being hurt etched in her eyes.
“Her only boyfriend had decided to screw her younger sister in high school.”
Her dad's words rush through me. I know what her sister did probably hurt her while her ex ensured she’d never trust a man again.
I swallow hard as fear rushes through me again that she won’t give me a chance. Even though I know I don’t deserve it, I slowly stand and murmur, “Just a walk,” then add, “and not a pity walk either.”
I know it sounded bad when I told her that her dad encouraged me to come see her, but what she isn’t aware of is my past.
Her dad just gave me that push a few days early, is all. I would have pushed past my pain and insecurities to find this girl again.
“Why?” she asks with a whisper, and I swallow again, my throat fucking dry as shit.
“Because I feel this intense need to get to know you, and even though I’m fucking petrified, I’m still standing here. I’m fighting my fear, and all I ask is for you to fight yours because all I’m asking for right now is a walk,” I admit lowly, baring myself to this beautiful woman.
Her throat bobs as she toys with her fingers, and she whispers, “But it won’t stop at a walk…”
Smart little bird.
“No, it probably won’t, but if you know that, then why not try?” I reply, and she looks down. I sigh, “Would it help if I told you that my club is the one that donated fifty thousand dollars yesterday?”
Her head shoots up, her eyes wide, and I smirk.
“I-I, I’m, I mean, I…” she stutters, then chokes, “Are you trying to bribe me into a walk?”
“Depends,” I murmur as I tilt my head, “is it working?”
She chokes on a laugh, making me grin, and she shakes her pretty little head as she walks to her bag on the floor. I tense when she puts on an oversized shirt. She grabs her bag before she walks my way, but my eyes stay on the fucking shirt that clearly belongs to a mans as hot red jealousy fills me.
Is it the ex’s?
Is she seeing someone and her dad just doesn’t know?
Fuck, I think I’m about to have a panic attack before trying to find the fucker who owns that shirt and kill him.
“It’s my dad's,” she says softly, seeing where my attention is and my mind settles. I mutter, “I still don’t like it,” shocking not only her but also myself.
Shit, I’m jealous that she’s wearing her dad's shirt, a shirt I really want to burn.
Shaking my head, I grunt, “Let's go before you change your mind,” and she chuckles, “What makes you think I’m not just going home?”
I flash her a smirk and state, “Because you live upstairs.”
Her mouth parts as I open the door for her, and she grumbles, “Damn Dad and his craziness,” as she walks out. I laugh, I fucking laugh, and she sends me a blinding smile that goes straight to my heart.
Guilt instantly fills me, and my smile vanishes as I clear my throat.
My sister is dead, she can’t date, or laugh, or live her life. And here I am entertaining a feeling I haven’t felt before.
I sigh and tilt my head toward the duck pond down the street, and we fall into step with each other.
“So,” she mumbles as we get halfway down the road, “how do we do this?”
I give her a grin and ask, “I thought you had a high school boyfriend? Or that is what your dad said anyhow.”
