“No, thanks.” The food wasn’t as good as I’d hoped, and I wondered what step I’d missed while I’d zoned out. “I’m not exactly big on guns. They’re too loud, too many different types of bullets to keep up with, and way too easy to accidentally kill someone with.”
“Okay, stun gun it is, then,” he replied easily with no hint of judgment. “That’s fine. Maybe one day we can go shoot for sport.” He shrugged as if it was no big deal. “It could be fun.”
I laughed, finally feeling the tension dissolve knowing that someone was there for me and had my back if I needed it. “That sounds okay. As long as you don’t want me to carry a gun all the time.”
“Nah, stun guns are effective enough for a single woman alone. It’s not like you live in a particularly dangerous town.” He chuckled. “You should see some of the places I’ve lived.”
The conversation shifted into small talk, which seemed to come easily for us, but as we ate, it somehow diverged into our childhoods. We’d talked a little about our families, but nothing in detail. My good mood soured as all the bruises, the smells, the yelling, all came rushing back with one word.
Rico broached the subject. “So, how much do you remember about your parents?”
I glared down at my plate, pushing my food around with my fork. “Enough that I never touched alcohol until pretty recently.”
Rico watched me across the table. I could feel his intense gaze on the top of my head. “They… weren’t great drunks, then?”
I laughed sardonically. “‘Alcoholics’ is the term most people use, and yeah, they were the worst kind. They were usually into worse stuff than alcohol, though, and when they combined the two?” I shuddered just thinking about it.
He grimaced, and for a second I thought I saw a flash of red in his eyes. “You said you see them from time to time. Are they still here in Black Claw?”
Looking up, I realized his hazel eyes seemed sad. “Far as I know, yeah. They were, ah, abusive, and deemed unfit to care for me, or so it says on my file. I jumped between homes until I was sixteen, and you know most of what happened after that.”
He nodded and took another bite, chewing thoughtfully. “So, if you don’t mind my asking, how did you end up so drunk at your sister’s birthday thing?”
“Completely unintentional,” I replied, grimacing. “I may have lost track of how many shots I’d had, and as I said, I only started recently and don’t do it often, so I don’t have much tolerance for it. I was always afraid I’d have the same penchant for addiction that my parents had, you know. And after my childhood, abandonment issues were another problem I had to deal with, and I always kind of associated one with the other, so…”
I trailed off, unable to continue that train of thought. Shoveling another bite into my mouth, I’d hoped to avoid answering another question, or at least put it off for precious seconds, but he remained quiet; the only sounds were our forks on the plates. He seemed introspective, and I thought maybe he was getting ready to shut down on me. Had I shared too much? Did he feel sorry for the poor little abused foster kid now? I didn’t need anyone’s pity, and I decided to tell him so.
Before I could get the words out of my mouth, he stood and walked around the table, kneeling at my side. He took my hand, turning it over in his, smoothing his thumbs across the lines in my palm. When the silence continued, I closed my hand on his fingers, getting his attention. He sighed and finally met my eyes, a pained look on his face.
“I’ll, uh,” he started uncertainly. “I hate that you ever felt like anyone didn’t want you. If I can help it, I don’t want you to ever feel that way again.”
He pushed up enough to meet my lips with his, a sweet, simple promise. My mind went blank at the tenderness of it. I was in new territory here. Given my previous relationship experience, of which I had laughably little, these were entirely uncharted waters. Though normally my anxiety would’ve kicked up at the thought of a solid, stable relationship, someone else to love and leave me, I was pleasantly surprised to find that I wanted it. I wanted this, whatever it was.
“I haven’t been the best since my parents died,” he said as he rose to his feet, pulling me with him, “but I’m trying to make some changes to my life, and I hope you’ll be patient with me while I get things figured out.”
I had no idea what he was going on about, though he sounded so sincere. Sure, I’d thought he was arrogant and full of himself when we met, but I hadn’t seen any indication that he was a bad guy. What kind of changes did he plan to make? Whatever it was, I trusted him. That thought should’ve terrified me, but it didn’t, and I smiled at him.
My hand traced his jawline, though I couldn’t recall telling it to. “I can be as patient as you need.”
Rico dipped his head and kissed me, this time firmer, longer. I parted my lips and his tongue wasted no time acquainting itself with mine. I could feel his fingers in my hair again, tugging gently, and it sent a jolt of excitement through my core. He grinned against my lips as if he could sense it, and pulled back, though the tip of his nose still touched mine.
“I don’t know,” he mused, playfulness dancing in his hazel eyes. “I think we should test that.”
“Test wha—ah!” I shrieked as he tossed me over his shoulder.
I might’ve smacked at him if I
