Page 25 of The Enforcers: KANE

He rolled his eyes a little, but the corners of them were crinkling with humor.

“Hi, Raven,” he said. “Gosh, you look pretty today. I like that smoky stuff on your eyes.” He stopped. “Am I supposed to talk about that? Or am I just supposed to pretend I think you’re not wearing makeup? And that you’re naturally beautiful? Which you are.”

He started to look nervous again, but she put her hand on his arm. It was warm, and hard with muscle.

“Talking about my smoky eye stuff is permitted,” she said. “You’re doing fine. Now I say, ‘You clean up pretty good yourself, mister. That shirt looks great on you.’ Although I have to admit I didn’t mind it when you were naked the other night.”

Whoops. She hadn’t meant to say that.

Kane frowned at her. “My social skills might be rusty, but I’m almost positive you’re not supposed to talk about the way people look naked. Not at the beginning of a date.”

He did think this was a date. She tried to make the part of her brain that was still acting like an operative drown out the part that was squeeing about him wanting this to be a date, but it wasn’t really working out too well.

“My bad,” she said, feeling her cheeks get red. “My social skills are a little rusty too. So we’ll just forget I said that and move on to the part where we hug and kiss cheeks.”

Kane flushed a little too, but he gave her a tentative hug and ducked his head to kiss her. At the last second, the traitorous “yay this a date” part of her brain turned her head so their mouths collided.

After the first frozen second, Kane’s lips softened against hers. He pulled her toward him, devouring her lips like a starving man.

Then he dropped her like a hot potato and stepped back, looking panicked. “Why did you do that?” he asked.

Wow. Did sexual stuff always freak him out? Or was it that he just thought of her as a little sister?

But you didn’t put on a button-down shirt and shine up your truck to take out your little sister.

She shrugged and stepped back, adjusting her purse over her shoulder. “I don’t know,” she said. “It just kind of happened.”

She had to get a grip on herself. Especially because he seemed upset. “Are you mad?” she asked.

He shook his head, but he was frowning. “Why would I be mad?”

“You’re making a frowny face.”

He shook his head again. “You are not what I expected.”

“Yeah,” she said softly. “You either.”

The first part of the trip to Silverlake was a little awkward. They didn’t talk much, and Kane kept casting little sideways glances her way, like he didn’t know what to make of her.

It took a little effort, but she finally got him talking. It turned out they had satellite TV at Silverlake, so they could talk about TV shows and movies. She was interested to find out his taste in music—jazz, alternative, and a little country. It was clear he wasn’t used to making small talk, but it wasn’t going too badly.

Until they’d been on the road about half an hour. They were out of town and climbing the mountain, with nothing but woods all around. With startling suddenness, Kane pulled the truck off the road and cut the engine.

What the hell? Rachelle found her hand inching toward her bag and her weapons.

Kane took a deep breath. “I have a confession to make.”

Holy crap. Please tell me he’s not going to say he’s an evil Selina minion after all, and he’s going to kill me now. Because Rachelle really, really didn’t want to have to fight him. Or, worse yet, kill him.

“Okay,” she said, gripping her pistol inside the bag. “I guess. Is this something I really want to know?”

“I don’t know. Probably not.” He went silent, his fingers picking at the leather wrap on the steering wheel.

Then he said, very softly, “Truth?”

She leaned back in the seat, smiling. “Always,” she said. She let go of her gun.

He said, “Remember all those stories I used to tell you, about when I lived with the pack? Before we were attacked?”