“And the other reasons?”
“Well…” Shane begins, thoughtfully. “Hmm…maybe that was the only one.” He smiles sheepishly. “What would you do, Gemma? If you could start your life all over again, would you change anything?”
“No,” I say immediately. I think it’s sweet that he asks me questions about myself, but I want to keep talking about him. He’s interesting. I’m ordinary.
“Go on,” he says, curious.
“If I could start my life all over again…” I say on an out-breath, “I would do everything exactly the same. Because if I turned down any other road, even a little bit, I wouldn’t have Aris.”
“Your daughter.”
“Yes—”
It all happens in an instant. A sudden coughing fit from a nearby table attracts the attention of every person in the restaurant, including our server, who rushes over to refill the girl’s water. She can’t be more than a few years older than Aris, fourteen, maybe fifteen. My heart pounds against my chest as she continues to cough. Her friend, a teenage boy, holds the glass toward her, begging, looking as helpless as I feel.
“Is she choking?” someone asks.
“She ordered soup!” the boy says, gobsmacked, and terrified.
The girl falls abruptly from her chair and collapses onto the floor. I shouldn’t stare, but I can’t tear my eyes away. A sheen of sweat coats her forehead and her flushed skin is darkening to purple.
What on earth…
The next thing I know, Shane is in my line of sight hovering over the young woman. He reaches for her, his hands searching her pockets, her purse.
“Hey man, what the fuck!” the boy shouts in protest, but Shane is unmoved.
“She has a food allergy,” he replies with a voice so calm it doesn’t even seem human. “We don’t have a lot of time. Do you carry a prescription?” he asks the girl. “Epinephrine?”
She nods, frantically, managing to point to her jacket hanging off the back of her chair.
I watch in stunned silence and anticipation, my heart in my throat, my hands over my mouth as Shane retrieves the EpiPen. His exhaled sigh is low and hoarse, empty of hope or hopelessness. There is no emotion on his face. Just the movement of his body, his limbs, his hands, as he preps the injection. He hikes her skirt just high enough to deliver the shot to her outer thigh.
In a moment that seems to stretch too long, too taut, the girl is finally breathing again. “Call an ambulance,” Shane says to no one in particular.
“They’re on their way, sir,” our server replies. “Your dinners are on the house tonight.” She sends her gaze to the young couple, the girl held in the boy’s arms, tears in the corners of his eyes. “Yours too.”
“No,” says Shane. “They’re on me.” He insists, then pays without any further argument from the waitstaff. He drapes my jacket over me, then clasps his big, warm hand with mine as we head outside, to the chorus of thank yous and God bless yous on our way out.
Is this man for real? The more I see him and get to know him, the more I start to feel completely unmoored.
I was already falling in love with him.
And now this? The man is more than kind. More than caring. I swear, his heart must be made out of solid gold.
Oh no—is that why he invited me out to dinner with him? Poor lonely single mom who drives a shitty car and wears an apron to work, can’t even donate a couple of dollars to the humane society.
Did Shane bring me here to wine and dine me, or did he bring me here to…feed me?
Am I the charity case?
His next move immediately puts those worries to bed. When we get to the truck, Shane spins me around and pulls me into his chest. His hands on my hips aren’t gentle, tender as before…but hard, possessive. His voice against my ear is soft, hot against the cool late-summer wind.
“How long do I get to keep you tonight, ma’am?” he says, ragged, and low, and sweet.
“As long as you want. The sitter is just a text away.”
“I really like you, Gemma.”
“I like you, too, Shane,” I boldly admit.
“Mmm,” he whisper-groans, and holds me closer, and the nearness, and the sound, are the match to the kindling that lights a flame in my core and burns into a blaze that scorches every inch of me. Every Single Inhibition. “Come back to my place.”
On a first date? Absolutely not! shouts my cautious, anxious brain. But he already owns every other part of me.
My heart, my body.
With the edge of his knuckle he tilts my chin up, so that I’m looking all the way into his face, into his beautiful, bottomless eyes. My heart thrums an erratic, new rhythm as my stare drops down to his lips…the instant before they descend on mine.
And as he claims my mouth, the fervent, deep-seated yearning that’s been present all evening begins to expand, uncoiling from my belly and rising upward to clash with Shane’s.
“Is that a yes?” he tempts against my parted lips. His eyes are darkened, needful.
I answer breathlessly, “Yes.”
Four
Gemma
Shane’s cabin is tucked in the woods under a canopy of shade trees, lit only by the moon and stars. There’s a wraparound porch with a rocking bench I’d love to curl up in, reading, sipping coffee. The melody of the rush of the river below us could put me into a trance.
“Welcome to my humble abode,” offers Shane. “It ain’t much.” As if he didn’t see my place.
Inside the cabin, it’s cozy, and warm, and it smells like him. Like cinnamon, and cedar, and soap.
“It’s not as hidden in the mountains as I’d like to someday live,” he says. “As long as I’m on SWAT I need to stay close to Fort Montevallo, in case I get called out.”
I pass my gaze around the clean, well-kept space. There’s a TV over the fireplace, a kitchenette, and a big, comfortable-looking bed. A separate door to the bathroom, and another that leads outside. “I love it,” I whisper. An understatement.
“I’m happy to hear you say that.”
I could imagine living here…with him. If I didn’t have Aris to think about. We couldn’t all stay here of course… Why is that even a concern right now? Shane and I have had One Date.
But I already know there will be more.
From behind me, Shane’s arms fall over me, languorously. I spin around. The smoldering look on his face makes my insides twist and turn. I lean into his broad, muscular chest, and his hands drop, circling around my waist. He looks and smells and feels so good, my panties are already drenched.
I’m not the only one turned on, if the stiffening hardon pressed between us, eagerly jerking against my abdomen, is any indication…
“I want you to know, Shane,” I whisper. “I’ve never done anything like this before.”
“I like that you’re a good girl,” he says, in little more than a husk of a voice. “But tonight…I’m going to want you to do very naughty things with me, baby.”
“Mmm,” I purr. “Okay.” Being naughty with him, the nicest man on earth with the softest heart—and the hardest rod—sounds incredibly appealing to me right now.