"So are you," I reply, before I can think about what I am saying to her. Her eyes widen.
"What?" she whispers, as though she thinks I might be making a joke at her expense.
"You’re perfect," I tell her, and I mean it. She stares at me. I am not going to pass up this chance. I know that a girl like this won’t be going out of her way to walk back in here anytime soon, and there isn’t a chance in hell I’m going to miss out on her.
"Come out with me," I continue.
"With you?” she gasps. My hand is still on her wrist – I trace my fingers over her arm, and I can see the way that she shivers at my touch. She might not be willing to admit it, but she feels everything that is happening between us just the same way that I do.
"Midnight Oil," I reply. "Tonight. I’m taking you out."
"I’ve never been there before," she protests, but there is a small smile spreading out over her face and I know that she is not going to turn me down.
"I know," I reply. "Because I’d remember if you had been."
She laughs again, her eyes shining with excitement, and then, finally, she nods.
"Okay, you got me," she giggles. "It’s a date?”
"It’s a date," I reply, and I lean back in my seat. And I know that whatever happens tonight, I'm not going to forget it anytime soon.
4
Spring
I check myself out in the full-length mirror of my bedroom, twisting this way and that, and offer myself a smile. Yeah, I think I look pretty damn good, actually. Good enough to get away with spending a night with a man as hot as Shotgun, that’s for sure.
Shotgun. That’s really his name. I have to stifle a grin as I think about how much it suits him. He’s straight to the point, honest, blunt. It’s what I like about him. Well, that, and the fact that he’s about as far removed as possible from anyone else I’ve ever met before in my life.
I can already hear my dad and Todd chatting outside. Dad is leaving tonight for a work conference in Denver, and Todd is house sitting. Really, I know my dad wants him here to watch over me. Forgetting, once again, that I am a grown woman.
I know the moment I walk outside the two of them will start to grill me on where the hell I’m off to – thank goodness I told Shotgun that I would meet him at the bar. I know that if a guy like that turned up at my dad’s house, he would flip his shit.
But mainly I know he hates the idea of me getting involved with anyone that he doesn’t approve of. He’s had Todd Chadwick picked out for me for months now, ever since he graduated, playing for the same college football team that my dad did. Look, I get school loyalty and everything, but Todd is pretty much everything that I don’t want in a man. The thought of having to spend more than an awkward dinner with him is enough to make my head hurt.
I know he’s the kind of guy that people would pick out for me. He’s a cop, I work at a daycare, we’re clean-cut and we make a lot of sense together. But there is no spark. No chemistry. No butterflies.
But gosh, sometimes a girl wants a little more fun, you know? And something about the way that my tattoo artist touched me today made it impossible to deny how much I wanted him. He spoke to me like he could already tell that I needed him in my life, and who was I to deny it?
I haven’t even shown my father the tattoo that I got today. Only downside of living in an apartment above his garage is that he still seems to think he has a say in what I do with my body. Not that I let him actually get the last word. If I did, I would already be married off to Todd, and that’s the last thing I want right now.
I have picked out this little blue dress that cuts off mid-thigh, a thin white cardigan, and even gone out of my way to ditch my normal sandals and come up with something a little more glamorous in a pair of heels. I think I look nice, but as soon as I step out of the apartment and head downstairs to meet my cab, Todd and my father turn to look at me as though I am some sort of crazy woman.
"Well, that’s hardly a dress," my father remarks.
"You have a hot date tonight, Spring?" Todd asks. Why is it that he always sounds sweaty? How does a person go about doing that? I don’t know, and frankly, I don’t want to know.
"I’m just going out with some of my friends," I reply. "That’s it."
They both stand there and look at me for a moment longer, and I know that they are waiting for me to give them more of an explanation. I don’t owe them anything. Not a damn thing. Before they can ask any more questions, my car mercifully arrives.
“Have a safe trip, Dad,” I say, giving him a hug and kiss on the cheek. “See you on Monday, right?”
“Yes, sweetheart, and Todd will be here if you need anything,” he says.
“Love you,” I say, not addressing his comment. Then I hop in the back before either of them can say anything to stop me.
I give the driver the address, and he shoots me a strange look – he probably doesn’t take many people to that side of town from this
