Chapter 4 Carter #2
“Oh, um, I don’t want to bore you with my life,” she shakes her head, “I’ve been told I sometimes talk too much, so…
whatever.” Must have been her ex because no normal person would tell her that.
Fuck him, I like hearing about her day, and actually, I like listening to anything she shares with me.
The woman could read a fucking computer manual and I’d still be hanging on to her every word.
“So you like to make lists?” I try to go back to what she wanted to say. She chuckles, the sound bouncing on the walls like a melody.
“I’m a hard-core to-do list expert.” She sips her milkshake, then licks her lips as if the motion of her tongue would have no effect on me.
I squeeze my fork so hard the metal bends.
“I like being organized, well, that’s kind of a must-have when you’re a single mom.
” She explains. I couldn’t imagine what it was like to tend to a little person alone.
“Do you, um, do you have hobbies or…? I suck at dates. I don’t really remember how this whole thing works,” she apologizes, pulling a strain of hair behind her ear.
I wish I could take her in my arms and tell her that I suck at it too ‘cause women are only interested in me for what I have to offer for a night, so words and all, yeah, no clue how to navigate that either.
“I like when you do that,” I admit, watching her silky chocolate hair move in slow motion.
“Do what?” she asks, furrowing her brows.
“When you touch your hair.”
“Oh,” she mutters, her lips forming a halo as I watch her pupils dilate.
Dilated pupils. Good sign.
“And I like that you say what you think.” She smiles. “You’re direct. It’s… I like that.”
She liked that. SHE LIKED THAT?
I remain stoic as something starts pounding fast in my ribcage.
“To answer your question, I do have hobbies. I like working out and watching movies, all types. Blockbusters and independent small films.” She nods, her eyes studying me slowly, taking in every inch I have on display.
I don’t mind. I like that she’s watching me.
“What about you?” I ask.
“A few. Working out too. I don’t go to the gym, though, it’s mostly videos I find on the internet that I do in my living room.
But my favorite thing is baking. I started last year, and now I make special cakes for my son and his cousins, with characters from movies and decor and stuff. ” She blushes.
So the blushing thing is good.
Noted.
Noticing that she has a bit of milkshake on her finger and no napkin to remove it, I spot some on the table behind her and stand to get her one. And just as I stand, her body jerks at my movement, her arm lifting to protect her face. I freeze, then sit back down as fast as I can, giving her space.
She thought I was going to hit her.
“God, I… I’m sorry, it’s…” She covers her eyes with her palms, then slowly removes them.
“Reflexes,” I say, staring at her.
She nods, her eyes getting all watery. “I’m sorry. I…I thought perhaps…”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m the one who needs to apologize.” Studying her face carefully, I notice her wide gaze, her teeth biting into her lips, and her chest moving too fast.
That’s not good.
After years of therapy, I got to deal with my PTSD, and I gather Lana might suffer from it as well.
So I try to remember what I learned and apply it to the situation: hands out so she can see them, stepping back to give her space, and talking calmly to not stress her more than she already is.
A drop of sweat rolls down my back at the thought that her ex must have had something to do with that.
Fuck, if I get my hands on this fucker, he will regret the day he was born.
“You never have to be afraid of me,” I say, locking my gaze in hers, trying as hard as I can to mimic reassurance like I see in movies.
I hope she gets what I'm trying to do. “I would never raise my hand at you, any other woman, or children, never, under no circumstances. You never have to worry about that.” She nods, and I know I did a good thing telling her that.
Perhaps she knew it already, but it never hurts to be said out loud.
“He really fucked things up,” I mutter to myself. Next time I see him, he’ll be in for a special treat. My palms are strangely sweating and my heart quickens.
“Yes, he…he did, but I'm okay now, it was so stupid to—”
“Nah, it's not, you shouldn't have to think you gotta protect yourself like that. It ain't right.”
“I know, I know.” She touches her hair with a shaky hand.
“You okay now?”
She nods. “Yes, it’s gone, sorry again—”
I frown. Is she being polite or trying to please me because she feels guilty? I can't tell and I hate myself for it. I'm going to take the safer, more rational way.
“Have you ever taken a self-defense class?” I ask without emotions as I watch a dark veil drop on her face for a second. Shit, was that too direct?
“No, well, I wanted to try a few years back, but I never got the time to.” She shrugs, her long hair dancing on her shoulders, catching the morning light.
“I could teach you if you want.”
“Self-defense?”
“Yeah.”
“Is it a move you make to get girls in leggings fighting you in a ring?” She lifts her brows with a slight smile.
Is she testing me?
I’d never picture a self-defense class as an opportunity to get close to a woman, but hearing the words from her perfect pillow lips hit me with the image of her fighting me in workout clothes.
“I never trained a woman in self-defense,” I admit, ‘cause the only men I did train from time to time were prospects. I’m more into boxing than self-defense itself, and I enjoy my weekly session with Ash as a sparring partner, even if he’s always making fun of my lack of emotions.
Fire and Ice, that’s what Mia calls us; it makes her giggle to think she has the two most opposite bodyguards in the world, and yet we make it work.
“But if you’d like, I could teach you some things, might help you feel safer.”
“Actually, yes, that’d be great,” she says before sipping the last drop of milkshake.
“Good,” I reply, cold as ice, while my mind bursts with fire.
“I’m gonna stand now,” I inform her, and she smiles with a softness in her eyes she hasn’t shown me before.
She nods and stares at me while I walk to the counter and pay the bill.
When I look back, she’s out of the diner, waiting in front of the door, her dress floating in the air, showing her little waist as the wind brushes the fabric.
What I’d give to rest my hand on her if she were mine.
I step out, carefully opening the door so I don’t scare her again.
“I’m parked here,” I motion my chin to my black Harley in front of us, “but I’ll walk you to your car if that’s okay,” I offer, stopping my hand from resting on her lower back. She nods and takes the left, where a small parking lot is at the end of the street.
“Forgot to give you this,” I say, giving her the gift I had kept in the inside pocket of my cut.
“Pepper spray?” Her eyes widen.
“Yeah, you know, just in case.” I shrug.
“Um, well, I have to say I’ve never received pepper spray as a gift, but I’ll definitely feel safer having it in my purse.
Thank you, Carter.” She smiles genuinely, my name coming out of her perfect lips like she said it a thousand times before.
“You’re…very different from anyone I know,” she confesses, and I look straight ahead as we walk, confused by her words.
“Is that a good thing?”
“So far? Um, yes.” She lifts the corner of her lips slightly, making her look like an angel in her light blue dress. Arriving at the parking lot, I bite the inside of my cheek. I could have walked with her for hours, even without talking; just having her next to me makes it enough.
“Still on for the self-defense class?”
“If you're not afraid to teach a beginner.”
“Nah, everyone has to start somewhere.”
“Right,” she murmurs.
“I’ll pick you up at ten? Saturday?” I offer, my heart thumping in my ribcage.
"Um, I might be at my sister’s. How about Thursday night?
I’ll get a sitter.” I mentally run through my schedule, and thankfully, Ares gave me my nights off next week since he said he’d be home earlier to stay with Mia.
Those two have been glued at the hip since the night we caught Nero.
I won’t complain, though, not if it means I get time with Lana.
“Thursday night then,” I say, looking down at her petite figure and wanting to touch her hand or her lips or anything. She’s like a magnet I can’t pull away from. Bouncing gently on her feet, she brushes her lips with her finger before grabbing her keys in her purse.
“Pick me up at seven.” The pink color is coming back to her cheeks. I nod, watching her walk away, the bounce in her step making her curves even more eatable.
“I’ll be there,” I say loud enough for her to hear me as she walks away.
“Thank you for breakfast,” she says with the sweetest smile, before turning her back and heading to the entrance of the parking building. I try to reciprocate but my lips remain frozen, so I nod with my hands in my pockets.
I watch her disappear behind the door then turn back to my bike. I start the engine and drive up the highway at high speed, wondering if this pinch-me moment will stop before I get a chance to get to know her better.
I hope not, I really do.
LANA
Ben
“I love you, you’ll always be mine babe.”
Of all the things I hate in this world, receiving a pathetic love text from my violent ex-husband is definitely at the top of the pile.
What could possibly have gone through his mind for him to think it was okay to text me this?
I shove my phone back into my purse after parking in front of Nancy’s front door.
Her house is much bigger than mine, with a large black window and a contemporary shape like the ones in fancy magazines.
I ring the bell and I’m greeted almost immediately by Alec, her husband.