Chapter 8 Dinner
Dinner
Abby stepped out of the house and pulled the door shut behind her. “Hi.”
Fuck. Tinker was so fucked.
Her hair fell in soft waves around her face, and whatever she’d done to her eyes made them almost glow.
He’d wondered if he’d remembered them wrong from the first time they’d met, but no.
Her dress was simple but accentuated the dip of her waist and curve of her hips.
The skirt ended slightly above her knees, showing off toned calves.
He’d always been a leg man.
Hell, who was he kidding? He was a leg, ass, tits, dimples in the small of a woman’s back, man.
“Hi. Are you going to invite me in?”
She gripped her purse in front of her. “No. Lindsey and Naomi came over to harass me while I got ready, and they’re still here. Inviting you in would be awkward for everyone, and by everyone, I mean me.”
He grinned. He bet it would be fun to rile her up. He glanced toward the window and sure enough, two sets of hands had separated the blinds, and her friends were peeking out from between the slats.
“Then you’re ready?” he asked.
She nodded and walked down the short path to his car. Keeping Angie’s advice in mind, he helped her with the door, closing it after she was in, and she rewarded him with a smile.
Maybe there was something to this gentlemanly thing after all.
She was glancing around the interior of the car when he joined her. “What?”
“It’s not what I expected, but it fits.”
He started the ignition. “What were you expecting?”
“Something more beat up. Toolbox in the back seat with grease-covered engine parts.”
He grinned again. He liked that she was honest. “I have a couple of those, although the toolbox and engine parts are in the truck.”
“This is the same kind of car they used for the General Lee, right?” she asked.
“You know cars?”
“No. I used to watch Dukes of Hazard with my dad. He always said he wanted a Charger. Every single episode. It’s pretty much the only car besides a Mustang I can recognize.”
“My dad got this from a junk auction. We started working on it when I was in the eighth grade.”
“I’m glad the doors work,” she said. “I don’t think I could have slid in through the window in this dress.”
“I definitely would have enjoyed watching you try.” He winked. “Why’d you say it fit me?”
What did she think of him? How had she judged him from the few times they talked?
“You don’t seem like a sensible mid-sized SUV kind of person,” she said.
“Why not?” He put on the blinker to turn into the parking lot of the restaurant.
“Too…what’s the word I’m looking for? New?” She lifted her hands and rubbed her fingers against her thumbs. “Automated maybe. Newer cars are mostly computer. They’re probably hard to tinker with.”
He pulled into an empty spot, shifted into neutral, and stared at her.
Damn.
She looked down. “Sorry if that was presumptuous.”
“No. Very accurate actually.” He set the parking brake and shut off the car. By the time he got out and rounded the hood, she had one leg out. He held out his hand to help her the rest of the way out of the car.
He closed the door and took a step closer. “Abby?”
“Yes?”
“I forgot to tell you, you look beautiful.”
Her gaze dropped and she cleared her throat. “Thank you. You look very nice as well.”
“I know. I clean up good.”
She laughed. “Well, there’s nothing wrong with your ego.”
He grinned and changed his grip on her hand, holding it in his, and led her toward the restaurant.
They were seated at a small table along the far wall, the large windows giving them a clear view of the deck around the building and the marsh beyond. He pulled out Abby’s chair facing the windows, then took the chair on the side next to her so he could see the rest of the restaurant.
Their waiter handed them menus, filled their water glasses, and asked if they wanted anything else to drink—both passed.
“You can have wine or something since I’m driving,” he said.
Abby shook her head. “I don’t drink often. Last week was the first time I had more than a glass of wine in a very long time.” She cocked her head. “Do you drink?”
“The occasional beer, but that’s all.”
She nodded and looked over the menu quickly, then set it aside.
The waiter returned to take their order. Tinker wasn’t ashamed to admit he was overwhelmed by the menu. He was used to much simpler food. “What are you having?”
“The salmon with mango chutney and asparagus.”
“Sounds good. I’ll have the same.” The waiter took their menus and left. “Do you like teaching?”
“I do. I like working with kids and watching them discover their talent. Even kids with no natural artistic ability can create. Do you like being a security specialist?”
He smiled as the waiter set down their waters. “Yeah. It’s always something different.”
“What does a security specialist do?”
“A little of this. A little of that,” he said.
“That’s vague. Is this one of those ‘if I tell you, I’ll have to kill you’ kind of things?”
“No. We do everything from contract military operations, to corporate security, to personal security. A few months ago, I was assigned to provide personal security for a well-known actor. His regular guy had to have last-minute surgery, so they called us up. It’s not that I can’t talk about it, except for whatever non-disclosure agreement we sign, there’s just so much we do. ”
“What’s your last name?” he asked.
Abby smiled like she knew an inside joke. “Day.”
“Wait. Really?”
She chuckled and nodded. “We are literally Knight and Day. Why do they call you Tinker?”
He liked that she didn’t let him off the hook with his stupid answer from the first time she’d asked. “Classic case of a little boy who liked to take things apart to see how they worked. My mom called me her little tinker. It stuck.”
“She doesn’t call you that anymore?”
Tinker shifted and adjusted his jacket. “My parents died in a car crash when I was seventeen. Drunk driver.”
Abby rested her hand over his fist. “I’m so sorry. That must have been incredibly difficult for you and Dani.”
She might be the most genuine person he’d ever met. “Thank you. It was a long time ago.”
“You never get over the loss of a parent,” she said.
“Yours?” He flipped his hand palm up and held hers.
“My dad. Six years ago. Aggressive colon cancer. By the time my mom talked his stubborn ass into going to the doctor, it was too late. They gave him six months. He made it nine.”
“I’m sorry,” he said softly.
“Thank you.”
He inhaled deeply. “Well, this took a maudlin turn.”
Abby cocked her head and looked at him with a puzzled expression.
“What?”
“You’re not at all what I expected,” she said.
“Why? Because I used a word like maudlin?” He was used to people having preconceived ideas of who he should be. He usually didn’t care, but he didn’t want Abby to think he was who he projected to the outside world.
“Yes.” She shook her head. “No. Well…yes.”
He leaned closer and played with the tips of her fingers. “You expected me to be like the bikers in Sons of Anarchy, didn’t you?”
She blushed and looked at their hands. “Maybe.”
“I kind of hate that show for how it romanticized outlaw MCs. Every time someone sees me on my bike with my cut, they either look like they’re afraid I’m going to attack them, or they look at me like I’m a snack.”
The corners of her mouth tilted up. “I don’t think you mind either of those scenarios.”
He grinned. “Both situations can be useful.”
Her golden eyes stared into his. “I’m sorry I stereotyped you.”
So. Fucked.
He hooked a finger under her chin and slowly pulled her face closer. Barely brushing his lips over hers, he felt the quick intake of breath. “Thank you.”
He brushed his thumb across her bottom lip and was rewarded with her tongue darting out and licking the spot.
Throat clearing broke them apart. The waiter set their plates in front of them, and Tinker took the opportunity to give his dick, pressing painfully against his zipper, a chance to simmer down.
Tinker helped Abby out of the car and walked her to her door. She turned to face him. “Thank you for dinner. I had a good time.”
He stepped closer. “I’m not sure if I should be insulted or flattered that you sound surprised.”
She smiled. “Definitely flattered. I haven’t been on a date in a long time. I was nervous and thought I’d do something awkward, and you’d never want to see me again.”
“I definitely want to see you again.” He slid his hand behind her neck and pulled her forward. Any resistance from her and he’d let her go, but she glided forward, gaze on his mouth.
One small touch of their lips and it was like a dam burst, releasing a flood of desire and sweeping them both away. Abby hit the wall next to her door with a small grunt.
He shifted his mouth to her neck, scraping his teeth along the soft skin. “You okay?”
“Yes,” she gasped. She slid her hands under his jacket, fingers digging into the muscles of his back.
He moved back to her mouth. Hot, open tongues sliding together. He might drown in her.
He slid his hand under her skirt and behind her knee.
She responded to the slight pressure and lifted her leg, hooking her heel-clad foot behind his.
He nestled into her center and skimmed his hand up her thigh to the lace edge of her panties.
Fisting his other hand in her hair at the base of her neck, he angled her head for deeper access.
“Mommy?”
A bucket of ice water wouldn’t have cooled his desire, but that one word sure as hell did.
He stared at Abby while she searched his face. He caught the slight tightening of her lips as she pushed at his chest and lowered her leg. He stepped back and ran a hand through his hair. His fingers still tingled from the heat of her skin, and his thoughts were scattered.
He focused on the little boy in dinosaur pajamas staring up at them. An older version of Abby stood behind him.
Abby went to the little boy and brushed her fingers through his hair, smoothing it down. She rested her hand on his shoulder and looked at Tink.
“This is my son, Will.”
“Hi, Will,” he said lamely.
The little boy tucked his face into her skirt.
“I need to get him into bed,” she said. “Thank you again for dinner.”
“You’re welcome.” He backed away down the path. “I’ll call you.”
Her smile was slight and quick. “Goodnight, Christian.”
She didn’t believe him. In that moment, he knew she was right. Because no matter how much he liked her, how much she set his blood on fire, a kid changed everything.
Abby shut the door gently and threw the bolt. The deep rumble of his car, so like his bike, growled, then faded as he left.
“I’m so sorry, sweetie,” her mom said. “I didn’t know he was still awake. I didn’t even realize he’d gotten out of bed until I heard the lock turn—I thought you were coming in.”
Abby rubbed her mom’s arm. “It’s okay.”
“Did you have fun at least?”
Abby smiled. “I did.”
“Good. Are you going to see him again?”
“I’m not sure. We’ll see.” That was as big a lie as the one Christian had told her. She wasn’t sure at what point during the night she’d started thinking of him as Christian instead of Tinker, but it didn’t matter. She would never see him again.
“Let’s get you to bed.” She picked up Will and took him to his bedroom. Fifteen minutes of snuggles later, he was asleep, his fuzzy blanket clutched against his cheek.
She eased her arm out from under his head and went to her mom’s room. Technically, it was now the guest room, but she always thought of it as her mom’s room.
She knocked softly and pushed the door open. “Can you unzip me?”
Her mom set down her book and crossed to her. “You think he won’t call because of Will.”
“Yes.” She turned once the zipper was down.
“He might surprise you,” her mom said.
“I don’t think so. It’s okay. It was just a date.”
“You wore your grandmother’s dress. You wanted it to be more than just a date.”
“What I wanted and what it was are two different things. Good night, Mom.”
“I love you, sweetie.”
“Love you too.”
Abby hung the dress on the padded hanger and carefully zipped up the back. She ran her hands down the garment and flared the skirt.
She had wanted more. For the first time in a long time, she’d done something for herself. Something selfish.
His taste lingered on her tongue. The skin of her thigh branded from his touch. She had never felt such intense desire or need for a man. It had been consuming. He would have consumed her.
And she would have let him if they hadn’t been interrupted.
The look on Christian’s face when she said my son was probably the same face he’d make if a dismembered hand had perched on her shoulder and snapped twice.
For one moment, fire had burned through her. She remembered what it was to feel alive, to be desired, to be wanted.
She wouldn’t let go of the feeling now that she had it. It might not be with Christian, but it would be with someone who saw her and made her feel.
Better to have her heart bruised now than broken later.