Decan
Tuesday passed far too slowly. had spent the morning working, then visiting the gym when that no longer served as a distraction. Once he’d freshly showered, he pulled out a dark blue collared shirt and matching slacks. Once his curls were neatly tucked away in a bun, he added his bracelets and silver necklace, unbuttoning the top of his shirt to tease at his inked skin underneath.
Traffic was a bitch as always. It was the only thing he hated about the Galleria Area. To be honest, Houston traffic was horrific at any time, but the I-610 had to be the worst of it. Hope lived on the west end of Spring Branch, not far from the toll way on Hammerly. As directed, he parked by the closed leasing office and texted her. A second later he saw her approach. As she opened the door and slipped inside, admired her curves that were deliciously accented by a knee-length summer dress.
“Oh, wow,” she said with a smile. “You look handsome.”
“You look breathtaking yourself.”
That adorable blush he was falling for deepened her cheeks. “Thank you.”
waited long enough to make sure she was strapped in before driving in the direction of the steakhouse .
“Have you been to this place before?” she asked, smoothing her skirt over her thighs.
“Often. It’s one of my favourites.”
“Their menu did look good. But do they really walk around with steaks, like an all you can eat buffet?”
“They do.”
Her eyes beamed and she did the same happy dance he’d seen when she’d gotten her coffee. “Well, I’m in for a treat.”
“How was your day so far?”
“Much better now. We didn’t have much to do so it went so slow. Yours?”
“Pretty much the same. Got some work done in the morning and then went to the gym.”
“Gosh, so productive.”
“It’s why I enjoy being a freelancer. I can work whenever I like.”
“Do you set your deadlines or the authors?”
“I tell them when I’m free and how long it’ll take me to get through their manuscript.”
“Is editing the only thing you do?”
“No, I’m also a PA.” Her brows fused, so he continued, “Personal assistant. I keep track of certain tasks like writing their newsletters or managing their social media accounts. Really depends on what they need and how often.”
“Oh, that sounds interesting.”
“It keeps me busy.”
From there, the conversation turned to Hope’s job.
She enjoyed the peace of working through the casefiles. He didn’t know much about medical coding, but she was very patient with him. When they arrived at the restaurant, Hope ’s bubbly personality had rubbed off on him. He transferred himself to his chair, prepared to go inside but Hope surprised him. With a smirk, she stepped in front of him, blocking his path.
“My hair does that too,” she giggled, reaching out towards him. Her fingers twirled a lost strand and gently pushed it behind his ear. “There are always a few that escape no matter how hard I try to have them all lay perfectly flat.”
Now it was his turn to blush. If he hadn’t already been in a wheelchair, he’d likely fallen to his knees. Instead, he felt as if his insides had melted into a warm, gooey mess. Hope stepped aside and let him take the lead, but how he managed, he had no clue. His brain was still short circuiting. They were shown to their seats and given their menus before either of them spoke again.
Peering at him from behind the menu, Hope asked, “Do you mind if I drink?”
“Why would I mind?”
“Because you’re the designated driver. I wouldn’t want you to feel left out.”
“I’m here with you. How could I possibly feel left out?”
Her beautiful, rose-tinted cheeks lifted in a smile. “I promise not to get drunk and embarrass you.”
“Perfect, so I won’t need to find a new restaurant after this date.”
They ordered, and Hope let choose her wine for her. Once the waiter was gone, Hope’s attention was laser-focused on him. “So, tell me —what was your first tattoo?”
He loved the way his name sounded rolling off her lips. Almost with a purr. “My ex’s name.”
Her eyes travel from his face over his neck to his chest. “Do you still have it?”
shook his head. “Covered it with a lion.”
“And where is said lion?” There was a hint of something in her question that made his heart flutter and blood surge south.
“My chest.”
“Was that your second tattoo?”
“No, but my biggest so far.” He rolled up his left shirt sleeve, revealing a smattering of roses—thorns and all. “The skull was added later.”
Hope leaned over the table taking his wrist in one hand while the other traced delicate lines over the roses on his forearm. “Just the roses at first?”
“Mmhmm.”
“Do they have meaning?”
Hope’s fingers were so soft, and her gaze so focused that it sent a shiver shooting down his spine. “Something about pretty things always hurting.”
“Why did you add the skull?”
“I thought it looked too feminine and was in my skull phase.”
Hope’s fingertips trailed up his skin to where his sleeve ended, then back down a different vine, turning his wrist as she moved. “They’re beautiful.”
“Thank you.”
She moved to his other arm, tugging the sleeve up to match the left. “And the ship and sea, was that a phase too?”
“Got it at a tattoo convention. ”
“By someone you really liked?”
“No, never heard of him before, but when I saw the drawing for it, I knew I would regret leaving without it.”
Her gaze burned a path up his arm and to his chest, tilting her head as if trying to see through the fabric. “Did she get your name tattooed?”
“Yeah.” Thinking about it made chuckle. “Yeah, she did.”
Her brows fused again. “Why is it funny?”
“You might think less of me if I tell you.”
“Maybe you can risk it?”
“I do like to live precariously.”
The waiter returned with their drinks and the appetisers. Hope took a sip of her wine, daring to spill his secret.
“I knew I would get mine covered up later. I was also well aware that she was already cheating on me. So, I proclaimed my undying love to her and suggested that we get matching tattoos since, like the ink, our love would never fade.”
“Couldn’t she just get hers covered up too?”
smiled. “She hated needles. Halfway through my name she was almost in tears. I knew I wanted more tattoos later, so it was nothing for me.”
“Why didn’t she say no?”
He wasn’t sure if Hope was aware of what her fingers were doing, but the circles she traced over his palm had his insides turning to mush. “Because she kept telling me how I was her ‘endgame’ and how much she loved me. She was that committed to the lie. She didn’t have to do shit. I was the first one to get tattooed. She could’ve walked away, come clean, and have me be the idiot with a girl’s name permanently inked on his skin.”
“When did you tell her you knew about the cheating?”
“The minute we walked out of the shop, I made all her private messages public.”
“That’s why you got the thorns?”
He nodded. “Seems depressing now that I look back on it.”
“Why not have your chest covered first?”
“It needed to heal, and I had to figure out what I truly wanted.”
“Did she ever get hers covered?”
“I’m not sure. But even if she had, it would’ve been torture for her.” He tilted his head to mirror her curious gaze and grabbed an appetiser. “I would have thought you’d be upset.”
“I think it may have been a little cruel. But then again you gave her every chance to back out, so she made her bed.”
Their sides came and with it, the first round of steaks. Hope tried a little bit of everything, taking seconds from whatever she liked the most. sat back and watched, amused. Hope’s mind-blowing realisation as she tasted the different meats was a sight for sore eyes. She admitted to not having gone to fancy restaurants before, so she was genuinely enjoying and soaking up the experience.
“What about you?” he asked when Hope finally came up for air.
She grabbed for her wine and took a sip. “What about me?”
“Any crazy ex boyfriend stories? ”
She placed her elbows on the table, rested her chin on her knuckles, and stared at something behind him. “Nothing that crazy, the usual ‘we weren’t a good match talk’ and then it typically just ended.”
“Why didn’t it fit?”
“Either we had different ambitions or were at different stages in life. If one always wants to party and get drunk and the other is perfectly fine staying at home and cooking dinner together, it won’t last long.”
“Are you a good cook?”
“I try. Do you cook?”
“Mmhmm. I meal prep a couple times a week.”
When she was done and set her cutlery aside, picked up the dessert menu and ordered for himself, which seemed to encourage her to do the same. He loved how she didn’t hide how much she’d enjoyed her food. Women tended to be embarrassed for the amount they could eat, but not Hope.
When the check came, she tried to hide her shock at the bill, but he grinned at her and set his card down. “Remember your rules. My choice, my treat.”
She blushed, worrying her bottom lip. “I know.”
Hope walked by his side out of the restaurant, her fingertips absentmindedly twisting a loose strand of his hair on his neck. He wasn’t sure his liquified insides would ever recover. Hope opened the door without a second thought and fell back into step next to him, her fingers drawing mandalas on his neck until they reached the car. While he handled his chair, Hope took her seat and patiently waited for him to join her .
“So, when’s our next date?” she chirped as he started the engine.
“This one isn’t even over yet,” he laughed.
“Would you rather I pray for it to end and never call you again?”
“I think that would leave me quite shattered,” he admitted, grinning in her direction. “Didn’t you say you liked cooking?”
“I did.”
“Maybe you can come over next time for dinner?”
Hope shifted to face him, reaching for that loose strand of hair again. “I like that idea,” she whispered, twirling the lock around her finger.
couldn’t help but hum at the pleasant sensation. “And I might keep my hair down next time too.”
“I do enjoy playing with it,” she said with a smile that made his stomach flip. Hope rested her head back and watched him drive through the city, her fingers curling his hair around them the whole way.
Once on the highway, he put on the cruise control and laid his hand on her thigh. With him having to use hand controls instead of foot pedals, simple gestures like this were difficult to show.
“I might fall into a food coma,” she finally said, suppressing a yawn.
“Don’t forget to set your alarm first. I would rather not have you remember me for making you miss work.”
“There’s so many other things to remember this date by.” Her hand found his, her thumb brushing his knuckles. “The whole having your ex’s name tattooed on you for example. ”
“Of all the things we talked about, that’s the one you remember?” he laughed, unconsciously stroking her thigh.
“What will you remember?” she asked him.
“Your ocean blue eyes and that cheeky grin.”
Even in the dim light, saw Hope blush. But before he could enjoy the moment properly, he had to remove his hand from her leg to take the next exit. He might not have been as good at hiding his frustration as he thought, because Hope dropped her hand from his hair to his thigh.
“When can I see you again?” he asked, pulling up to her apartment complex.
“Friday evening?”
“You’ll make me wait that long?” whined playfully.
“You can always call.”
“I can and will.”
“Is that a promise or a threat?” she laughed.
brought Hope’s hand to his lips, dusting a kiss across her knuckles. “A magician never reveals his secrets.”
“Promise to text me when you’re home safely, okay?”
“I will.”
Then Hope leaned in and stamped a quick kiss to his cheek. “I’ll see you Friday,” she told him, jumping out of the car.
He watched as she disappeared behind the gate and around the back of the building.
Fuck.
brought a quivering hand to his cheek, tracing the outline of her lips and wishing— praying— that he’d get to feel them again.