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★☆★☆★
“But you hate baseball,” Cara said as we finished having lunch, our little time away from the prison.
I was looking at my phone. I know it was rude, but Jace was texting me. I read the text and smiled, then looked back into her expectant face. “I know. I really don’t like many sports. But he and his friends are hot. Want me to set you up with one?” I asked, just to get a rise out of her.
She let out a tired breath. “No. I’m not ready for that.”
That was an interesting answer. Was she beginning to realize this wasn’t going to work between her and that Riley guy? Was she finally coming down from her love high and was reality setting in? Instead of snapping off a smartass retort, I just smirked and said, “Okay.”
“So where are you going on your first date?” she asked as she shoveled a French fry into her mouth.
I lifted a shoulder and let it fall. “I don’t know. For once, I’m not gonna be my control freak self, and just let him choose.”
She rolled her eyes as her mouth wrapped around the straw. She pulled off of it and said, “Oh, please. You let guys do whatever they want.”
My chicken sandwich was paused at my mouth as I lifted a pale eyebrow at her. “Bitch, I know you didn’t mean that how you meant it.”
She snorted, then laughed. Then I laughed with her. She so meant it how she said it, and I knew it, too.
“Look, I like this guy. Not only is he smokin’ hot, he was nice to Ash.”
Her mouth formed a small O. “He’s met Ashlynn?”
I nodded. “Yep.”
Her brow furrowed together. “I thought you said you met him at the gym.”
I rolled my eyes. “Girl, I take her with me to the gym. They have a daycare there. I told you this.”
She nodded, as if remembering, then sighed. “Sorry. My memory sucks lately.”
“I get it, trust me.”
On my way home from work that day, my stomach roiled with excitement, as I knew I had a date with Jace the next night. My parents were going to take Ashlynn overnight so I wouldn’t have to worry. So why was I worried anyway?
***
“You look regal,” he said, a smirk twisting on his lips.
I resisted the urge to narrow my eyes at him. “Thank you.”
I don’t understand what was so regal about a short, red, sleeveless dress and some red pumps, topped off with some red lipstick, but if he thought I looked nice, I wasn’t going to rebuff the compliment.
“You look very nice yourself,” I replied, taking in his designer jeans and black button down shirt.
He nodded and helped me out of the car as we parked at a small restaurant perched on the water.
It was sort of cliché, but it was nice, too. This particular establishment was a pretty popular Mexican restaurant that had been here for many years. As the server sat us near a window, I gazed out at the choppy water, the big orange orb disappearing where the water met the sky. There were boats parked along the edge of the marina, which was next to a long wooden dock. Most of the boats had lights strung along their bows, and I dreamed that one day I’d get to attend a party on a boat so fancy.
“What’s good here?” Jace asked, perusing his menu.
I laughed. “You brought me here, remember? You tell me.”
He set the menu down and folded his thick hands together over it. “You’re a local girl, don’t tell me you’ve never been here before.”
“You’re local too. Dalton told me.”
He waved me off. “Sort of. I grew up in the area, yes. But I’ve been away a lot, too.”
I frowned as the word groupie drifted through my mind. I was quiet for a few minutes as I decided what I wanted, then I put the menu down.
“Travel a lot for your baseball job?” I asked, catching him off guard.
The slight stubble from his cheeks caught the orange light from the fading sunset, and I noticed that while his hair was light brown, his facial hair grew in very light – almost blonde. It made me wonder if he was blonde when he was younger, then I looked into his blue eyes and knew he probably was. Then I wondered why I was even curious about these things.
“Yes, during baseball season, of course,” he replied with a smirk.
I bit my lip, wondering if I should ask the next question. After all, it would make me sound like a total idiot and show that I didn’t know shit about baseball, but I decided to anyway. “When is that?”
He smiled sardonically and looked at me, and I could tell he was trying not to laugh. “Not a fan?”
I shook my head and tossed some blonde hair behind my shoulder. “Uh, not really? Sorry.” I was genuine in my apology. I could sit through football, even basketball, but baseball? Ugh. Total snoozefest. Who thinks men standing around in tight baseball pants was interesting? The only interesting thing was the way their fine asses filled out the pants. Now that, I could stare at. But only for a little while.
I remember one time, Chris had taken me to a San Diego Padres game and I had brought a book with me. He got so mad at me. I laugh now at the memory, but I suppose it was kind of rude. The next week I had installed a reading app on my phone so I wouldn’t be so obvious. Not that he ever had taken me to another game after that.
“What’s so funny, Miranda?”
His use of my name brought me back to the present. “Oh, nothing. Except you didn’t answer my question.”
The server brought out food and he thanked her. As he unwrapped his utensils from the napkin, he replied, “Spring and summer, mostly.”
I nodded, running the fork through the Spanish rice on my plate, wanting to inhale it in one fell swoop into my mouth but trying to remain ladylike instead of the ravenous hog I felt like I was. “Well then, what do you the rest of the year?”
“Computer stuff, mostly.”
The fork paused at my mouth. “Are you serious?”
He took a sip of his water. “Why does that surprise you?”
I lifted a freckled shoulder. “Not sure. You seem more like the jock type than the computer geek type.”
“I’m both,” he replied.
“I see that.” I began to cut my burrito with the side of my fork, when I really just wanted to pick it up with my fingers and shove it into my mouth.
“So what do you do?”
A sarcastic smirk lit up my face. “I bet you’ll never guess.”
“Well, my brother told me you had a badass job, so I’m not gonna go with school teacher or nurse.”
“Hey, those are both badass jobs, just for your information.”
He snorted. “Point taken. But Dalton made it sound like badass, as in, dangerous.”
I shook my head and took a long pull from the little black straw in my margarita. “It’s not dangerous, but I like to tell people it is.”
He shook his head and shoveled some more food in his mouth. I was kind of surprised he didn’t try to guess. I loved making people guess what I did for a living. Cara and I both always got school teacher, nurse, banker, hair stylist, secretary... well technically we were secretaries, but I can guarantee you most secretaries didn’t spend their days around convicted felons, called on sometimes to do inmate pat downs and cell searches.
One time Cara and I were at Cowboys. We were totally wasted and these two guys asked us to dance. They seemed a bit older than us, but we didn’t care. They were excellent swing dancers and we let them swivel us around the dance floor. It was a blast, until the song ended and they went back onstage, where we soon realized they were part of the band, who had been on a break while the DJ had taken over and played some old Brooks and Dunn song as we’d danced.
During the dance, one had asked Cara what we did for a living, and to our horror, the guys had gone back onstage and dedicated the next song to us – “the girls from the women’s prison” – and we had almost died in embarrassment, as we were sure the rest of the patrons of the club thought we’d both just got released from prison. To make matters worse, he’d sung Jailhouse Rock by Elvis and I remember we had slunk out of there faster than an escaped convict being chased by the cops.
After paying for dinner, we walked to Jace’s Mustang and he looked up into the dark night, a starshot sky over our heads. I looked into his face as a cool breeze blew.
“Want to go for a walk?” he asked, pointing at the pier.
I nodded. “Can I leave my purse in your car, player?”
He made a noise and shook his head. “Yes. Just stop calling me that.”
I chewed my bottom lip and debated, then said, “Nah, I like it. I’ll call you that whenever I want, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”
I put my purse into the front seat, and he closed the passenger side door. Without warning, he pushed me up against the door, framing me in with his arms. “Is that so, your majesty?”
I squared my chin and said, “Yes.”
He reached down and pushed a quick peck of a kiss onto my lips, then withdrew himself and grabbed my hand.
My lips tingled where he’d kissed me, and I had to resist the urge to put my fingers there to make sure it had been real.
What I couldn’t stop was the stupid-assed schoolgirl grin that lit up my face. I let him lead me toward the pier, my hand never leaving his, as we began to walk.
“So I’ve been thinking. You said your job is dangerous, right?” he began.
I tried not to smile. “No, I didn’t say that. Your rebel brother did.”
He threw his head back and laughed, and he had a great laugh. “He is a total rebel, isn’t he? I tried to talk him out of getting those gages in his ears and the neck tats, but of course he doesn’t listen to anything I say.”
I shrugged. “Hey, everyone has their own thing. You’re a jock, he’s a rebel... I’d love to meet the rest of your siblings.”
“You’re changing the subject.”
We kept walking, and I stared at his face as it was now bathed in a blue glow from the full moon. I looked out at the marina, tethered boats bobbing at the edge, a sliver of moonlight casting a glow along the water while the restaurant’s lights threw an orange reflection on the dark water next to it.
“Ya know, I hesitate to tell guys what I do for a living. In reality, I really am just a lowly secretary.” I ended with a smile.
“Really? Then why all the games?”
“In a prison,” I added.
His eyebrows shot up. “Oh, okay. Well if you’re a secretary, then you really don’t have many interactions with the prisoners then, right?”
I shook my head. How many times had I heard that? “That’s where you’re wrong. My office is in their housing unit. I’m around them all day.”
He nodded. “Well, I bet they love having you there. I bet they hit on you, huh?”
I pursed my lips, trying not to laugh.
He looked at me with questioning in his beautiful eyes.
“Ever watch Orange is the New Black?” I inquired.
His eyes then got big. “You work in a women’s prison...” it was more of a statement than a question.
I nodded. “Yep. Can we change the subject now?”
We strolled some more with me holding my shoes, talking about everything. Jobs, politics, books, TV, everything. It was so nice, and by the time I checked my phone, it was almost 1 a.m.
“You should probably get me home.”
He nodded and we walked back to the restaurant’s parking lot. Only a few lights lit up the place now, and one orange street lamp illuminated its parking lot. He helped me into his car and we drove back to my house.
Like a gentleman, he walked me to my door, and I fought the urge to invite him in. His warm, calloused hand had been caressing mine all night, and I wanted to feel both his hands exploring my body. I wanted to throw my room into darkness and toss the covers of my bed back and climb into the cool sheets with him close behind, while the warmth of his body pressed on top of me.
But then I realized that I actually liked this guy and wanted to see him again.
“Goodnight, your majesty,” he said with a slight nod of his head. He kissed my hand.
Man, this guy was laying it on thick!
I laughed. “Goodnight, player.”
He looked into my eyes under the glow from my porch light, and lightly placed his fingers on my face. With his thumb rubbing along my jawline, he leaned down and sealed his mouth over mine, and I melted against him. His other arm eventually wrapped around me and pulled me close into his body. He felt hard and athletic and I became self-conscious of how soft I must feel against him.
He ran his hand slowly down my back and along the curve of my ass. I groaned and began to re-think my decision of not inviting him in, because I knew once I did, we’d end up naked in my bed and I’d be eating a mouthful of regret as soon as I woke up tomorrow morning.
I broke his luscious kiss and looked up. “Thank you for dinner, Jace. I mean it. I haven’t had such a good time in as long as I can remember.”
He smiled, pushing some blonde hair from my forehead and bored his turquoise eyes into mine. “Same here. I am so happy I met you.”
Melt.
“Will I see you again?” I asked, a little bit of desperation lacing my tone, and I cringed.
He smiled. “Oh yes, most definitely.”
When I didn’t reply, or break from his grip, he said, “You’re so beautiful.”
I flogged back the desire climbing through my body and reluctantly pushed myself off of him, slowly turning around to slide my key into the lock of my front door.
“Goodnight, Jace.”
He stepped off my porch, and began walking backward toward his Mustang. “Goodnight, beautiful.”
I went into the house and locked the deadbolt and pressed my back against the door with a dreamy sigh.