A comfortable silence engulfed us. “Goodnight, Silas.”
“Goodnight, Rosalie. Sweet dreams,”
There was something about the way he said my name that made me feel weak in the knees.
“See you at work?” he asked huskily, just about to turn away and descend the steps.
“Definitely,” I stepped into my apartment, closing the door softly behind me. I pressed my back against the wood, my heart racing.
What just happened? Did I seriously just flirt with a co-worker? Not to mention, my boss. What am I thinking? That is literally a recipe for disaster.
I shook my head; biker boys were always bad news. Even if they were gentlemen or—I looked down, realizing I still had his jacket.
Shit.
Turning around, I opened the door. “Silas!” I shouted from my porch but—he was long gone. With a sigh leaving my lips, I headed back inside my apartment. I closed and locked the door behind me. I guess I would just have to return his jacket to him tomorrow. Poor guy, he saved me from becoming roadkill and then had to walk home in the rain without his jacket. That was really sweet of him, but I hope he doesn’t get sick because of it.
Still, it was the first time a guy had ever beenthatnice to me. I couldn’t help but be tickled by the gesture. Pulling out my phone, I dialed Sadie’s number.
She was not going to believe this.
5
Silas
Iwas sitting across the table from Rosalie, and I couldn’t stop looking at her. She was adorable. From her strawberry blonde curls she had half tied back with a pink scrunchie, down to the freckles on her face. I wanted to count them. Every last one.
I need to stop staring; she’ll think I’m weird.
I diverted my eyes elsewhere, only to circle back to her again, watching her fiddle with the menu. The restaurant bustled with laughter and the clinking of glasses but all I could focus on was her.
I felt a fierce protectiveness over her. The desire to hold her hand and ease whatever anxiety she was feeling, but I found enough self restraint not to overstep.
Is she nervous because she always dates assholes? Or is she worried that I am also an asshole? I’m not an asshole. At least, I don't think I am. How do I prove to her that I only have the desire to kiss the ground she walks on and worship her in the way that she deserves?
I didn’t want to scare her away, not after I finally managed to get a date with her. Now that I thought about it, I’ve seen her drink coffee, but I’ve never actually seen her eat before.
“So, have you decided what you want?” I leaned forward.
Rosalie smiled. “I think I’m going to get the crispy chicken caesar salad. What about you?”
“Aren’t you hungry for something more?” I pressed. “Steak? You can get whatever you want, I’m paying.” I smiled.
Did she want salad because she actually wanted it, or was she more insecure than she let on? Was she worried about her weight because of ballet? Rosalie, darling, you’re beautiful just the way you are…
Rosalie shrugged. “I mean, it’s lunch, not dinner. I’m trying to keep it light.”
“Light is overrated,” I quipped. “Come on, you need your strength, but—if your heart desires a crispy chicken caesar salad, who am I to get in the way of that.”
She giggled.
I love her laugh.
Our playful exchange warmed my heart. I was about to lean in closer when an unwelcome figure approached our table. It was Jason, a well-known total sleaze. A goddamn loudmouth who had a penchant for interrupting other people’s good times and Rosalie’s shitbag of an ex who cheated on her with one of her friends. I hated people like him. Hell, I hated him.
You know, now that I think about it. Why the fuck have I not killed him yet?
My eyes narrowed as he approached our table.
