Boxing Day
SHOWGIRL OR STRIPPER? Paid escort? Call girl?
Reese wasn’t sure which Amanda was going to show up tonight. He only knew that whichever woman met him here on this slightly seedy corner, one block off the northernmost end of the Strip, she was going to blow his mind. Just like she always did.
“Come on, it’s been over an hour,” he muttered, glancing at his watch as he leaned against a light post. She’d better show up soon, or one of the real working girls might decide he was looking for some company.
She’d been adorable when pushing him out of the room back at the hotel. Had she really thought he didn’t know, that he couldn’t figure out what kinds of games she’d want to play in Las Vegas? Seriously, what could be more obvious?
Still, maybe it wasn’t as clear to her as it was to him that he knew her so well. Better than he’d ever imagined when they first met. Better than she’d ever wanted him to, that was for sure.
He was even beginning to understand why. Despite those careful walls she’d kept around herself in the beginning, during their last couple of get-togethers, she had started to reveal bits and pieces of herself.
She’d talked a little about her family back home, hinting at a lack of connection that saddened him on her behalf. His own family might drive him crazy, but he’d been raised in a house filled to the brim with love.
He suspected Amanda had never been assured of that emotion from her parents.
She’d also asked about his upbringing, and in her slightly wistful tone, he’d heard much more than she was willing to say out loud. He’d known, somehow, that despite how much she claimed not to need anyone, a part of her might actually wonder what such connections might be like.
One thing she hadn’t talked any more about was her past love life. But, hell, she didn’t need to. He knew she’d had a few rocky relationships. He also knew they’d ended badly, and that she still kicked herself about it.
She was human, wasn’t she? Human and only in her late twenties. Who the hell didn’t do dumb things in their twenties, things they regretted for a long time after? Amanda simply hadn’t realized yet that she wasn’t much different from anybody else. Including him.
“Hey stranger, you lookin’ for some company?”
Call girl.
Excitement washed over him as he turned to stare at the woman who’d spoken from a few feet away. She stood just outside a puddle of illumination cast by the streetlight, and he couldn’t see her well. But he’d know her anywhere. That voice, that scent. The very air seemed filled with static electricity, snapping with the excitement that always surrounded her. He reacted to it on a visceral level, as he had since the moment they’d met.
“Maybe,” he admitted. “Are you offering to keep me company?”
“I might be willing to do that. If you offer me enough … incentive.”
She sauntered closer, into the light, and Reese had to suck in a surprised breath. Good thing he’d had that moment of instant recognition, all his other senses confirming her identity. Because for a brief second, when he saw her, he feared he’d been mistaken. At first glance, she looked like a completely different woman. An incredibly sexy woman. A woman he wanted with every cell in his body.
“Wow,” he muttered.
Her wig was short, blond, curling just past her chin. The style emphasized the heavy makeup she wore. Amanda’s face was already lovely, but with the added coloring—the thick mascara, the ruby-red lips—she looked exotic and oozed sex appeal.
The clothes, however, took the sex appeal from oozing to gushing.
Her long, black overcoat clung to the very edges of her shoulders. Completely unbuttoned, it gaped open to reveal the skimpy outfit beneath. What little of it there was.
Her white top was not only incredibly tiny, plunging low to tie beneath her breasts, it was also thin, nearly sheer. Even in the low light, he could make out the dark, puckered nipples and hunger flooded his mouth. It had been too long since he’d tasted her, touched her. He should have insisted on at least a few minutes back at the hotel to satisfy the raging need he’d been feeling ever since they’d parted ways in New York.
Her midriff was entirely bare, down all the way past her stomach. The skirt, which didn’t even reach her belly button, merely pretended to clothe her hips, and was so tight he could see the line where her thighs came together underneath. And oh, those fishnet-clad thighs beckoned him, tempting him to taste the tiny squares of supple skin revealed between the black, stretchy bits of fabric.
The boots were, without a doubt, his favorite part of the whole thing. And he already knew he was going to rip those hose off her body so she could leave the boots on to wrap around him as he pounded into her.
“So, whaddya say, mister?”
“To what?”
“To a date?”
“A … date? With you?” he asked, pretending reticence he in no way felt.
“No,” she said with a definite eye roll. “With that light post holding you up.”
He still didn’t move.
“Come on, admit it. Haven’t you fantasized about spending a night with a girl like me?”
He couldn’t answer that. Not truthfully. Because if he answered in the game, as if she were really a call girl, he’d have to say no. He’d never even thought about being with a prostitute.
If he answered as himself, the real Reese Campbell talking to the real Amanda Bauer, then the response was unequivocally yes. He wanted to go out with her, be a half of a couple with her—Amanda—almost as much as he wanted to take her back to the hotel and do her until she screamed with pleasure.
“I promise you, I’ll let you do things to me that your nice little wife or girlfriend back home has never even heard of.”
Interesting. The corner of his mouth lifted in a half smile. “I think I might need to hear more about these things before I make a decision.”
She moved closer, her gait slinky, the sway of her hips exaggerated. When she reached his side, she lifted her hand to his chest. “Let’s just say you can do anything you want to me. Absolutely anything. And I’d let you.”
He shook his head, feigning confusion. “I’m still not sure I know what you mean.”
She lifted her chin and her eyes narrowed as she heard the challenge in his voice. Then, with a smile of pure wickedness, she leaned up on her toes, coming close enough for her beautiful lips to graze his cheek. With a nip on his earlobe, she told him one very naughty thing she wanted him to do to her.
Damn. Heat and excitement flared and he slid his hands into her coat, cupping her waist. Without a word, he turned her around, so her back was to the light pole, then bent down and kissed her. Licking his way into her mouth, he met her tongue with his and thrust lazily. Their bodies melded and he heard her tiny groan when she felt how hard he already was for her. She pressed against him, grinding her groin against his erection, wrapping one long leg around his to cup him more intimately between her thighs.
They were on a public street and it was only ten o’clock at night. Fortunately, though, the cool weather had people staying inside the closest casino gambling, not outside cruising the block. So as far as he could tell, they didn’t have an audience.
That was good. Because he couldn’t stop. No way would he stop. Not when her lips were so sweet and her body so willing. Not when she’d whispered such wanton, erotic desires in his ear, promising their fulfillment with her dreamy-eyed stare.
When he finally ended the kiss, lifted his head and looked down at her, he saw the dazed look of pure want on her face. Her lids half covered her green eyes and most of her lipstick had been kissed off. She looked sensual and awakened, ready for sin and sex and more of everything they’d ever done together. And some things they hadn’t.
He had to have her. Had to.
“Let’s get out of here,” he muttered, already stepping toward the curb to flag down a taxi.
“Absolutely,” she whispered, her voice shaking.
Traffic wasn’t heavy, and not a cab was in sight. Figured. When he saw one crossing the next block, Reese stepped off the curb onto the street, whistling loudly. But before he could see whether the cabbie had heard him and made a last-minute turn, he was startled by a shout that split the night air.
“Stop, thief!”
Reese froze, jerking his head to stare in the direction of the voice. The cry had sounded like it was coming from the closest building, which had a sign identifying it as a pawn shop.
He was a split second slow in reacting. If he’d been thinking more clearly, he would have immediately jumped back up onto the sidewalk, grabbed Amanda and shoved her safely behind him. In his surprise, though, he hadn’t done it.
So she was right in the path of the black-cloaked figure that came hurtling out from behind the building.
“Manda!” he cried, seeing the shape emerge from the darkness.
Before she had time to react, the running man barreled into her. They stumbled around together for a second, their legs and coats tangling.
“You son of a bitch.” Reese dove toward them, knocking the man off her, but falling, himself, in the process. “You’re dead,” he snarled.
The thief, obviously realizing there was only one thing that would stop Reese from chasing him down and beating him to a pulp, whirled around toward Amanda and shoved. Hard.
The blow sent her careening toward the street. Those high-heeled boots wobbled, making it impossible for her to catch her balance. Right before she fell off the curb into the path of the cab, which had indeed turned and was rapidly cruising up the block, Reese lunged to his feet and grabbed her around the waist, hauling her back to safety.
“My God, are you okay?”
She nodded, though her whole body was shaking, especially as a taxi screeched to a stop right where she would have landed in the street.
“That rotten bastard,” Reese snapped, his feet nearly in motion to go after the man in black. The thief had just darted down the next alleyway, heading across a debris-laden, abandoned construction site that separated this road from the north strip.
“No, Reese,” she insisted, holding on to his arm. “I’m fine, really. And you are not going to go chasing after some robber. You could get hurt.”
“He was a scrawny runt.”
“Who might be armed. You’re staying right here.”
Before he could reply, a heavyset, balding man with flaming red cheeks jogged up to them. “Did you see him? Did you get a good look? Rotten thief robbed my shop!”
“I saw him,” Amanda replied, sounding weary.
The shop owner peered at her, narrowed his eyes and sighed heavily. “Oh, that’s just great.”
The man’s sneer toward Amanda, whom he obviously took for a real lady of the evening, tempted Reese to let the guy deal with his own problems. But his rage toward the thug who’d so callously tossed her into the street was greater. So he admitted, “I saw him, too. Now why don’t you go call the police so we can give them a description.” He tightened his arm around Amanda’s shoulders. “And hurry. We’ve got things to do tonight.”
OF ALL THE WAYS she’d envisioned spending their first night in Vegas, standing in a dingy pawn shop, talking to two officers from the LVPD, hadn’t been in the top thousand. Especially because said cops had spent the first ten minutes of their interview trying to figure out whether they needed to arrest her for prostitution and Reese for solicitation.
Talk about a convincing costume. She and Reese had finally had to come clean about what they were up to, showing their credentials, including Amanda’s pilot’s license. Ever since, the younger police officer had been trying to hide a smile and was casting quick, sneaky glances at Amanda whenever he thought he could get away with it. The older one hadn’t even tried to hide his amusement. She’d swear she heard him mumbling something about how much he wished his wife would wear thigh-high boots.
That so didn’t help.
“Okay then, miss, sir, I think I’ve got everything I need,” said the older officer, who’d introduced himself as Parker. Standing in the well-lit entranceway of the shop, they’d just finished answering all his questions. “You did a good job remembering details about this guy.”
Amanda didn’t think she would soon forget the pale, pockmarked face of the man who’d so readily shoved her toward what could have been her death. His glazed brown eyes and long, greasy blond hair weren’t going to leave her mind anytime soon, either.
“The owner of the shop says the thief got away with some valuable diamond jewelry,” Parker added. He snapped his notebook closed and tucked it into his uniform pocket.
Reese glanced around the small, nondescript shop, which was a little dusty and unimpressive. “Really?” he asked, sounding doubtful. “It doesn’t look exactly top shelf.”
“You’d be surprised,” offered the younger officer, whom the older one kept calling Rookie. His voice low, he looked around for the owner, who’d disappeared into the back to do yet another check on his inventory. “A lotta these places are mob-owned, legit businesses where money goes to get nice and clean.”
“Would you shut yer yap?” said Parker. With a glare, he explained, “We’re really not in the habit of making unfounded comments about members of our local business community.”
The younger guy snapped his mouth shut and didn’t say another word.
“If we’re finished, are we free to go?” Reese asked.
“Sure thing.” Smiling, Parker tipped his hat at Amanda. “Hope you two enjoy the rest of your visit to our fair city. And might I suggest that next time you, uh, confine your field trips to the lobby of your own hotel?”
Though she’d been embarrassed at first, now all Amanda could do was chuckle. Parker seemed like a nice guy, and, really, it was either laugh or cry. Laughing seemed the much better option.
“You bet,” she said. Winking, she added, “And if you get your wife a pair of these boots, be sure to get one size larger than she usually wears. They’re pretty painful.”
He threw his head back and guffawed. “If I came home with a pair of those things for her, she’d use them to kick my ass.”
With a polite nod, Reese led Amanda out of the shop by the arm. She was still chuckling as they emerged outside, knowing she was going to have to share this whole story with Jazz. Her friend would love it.
So would Uncle Frank, if she was ever able to get over the whole embarrassment factor and tell him, too. But it was the kind of situation that would horrify her parents, and reinforce their firm belief that she was a reckless wanton who cared nothing for her own reputation. Or theirs.
Caught up in thought, she didn’t notice that a small crowd had gathered outside the pawn shop. About a dozen people milled around on the sidewalk, likely drawn by the flash of the police lights and the whispers of a robbery in the neighborhood.
“Hey, what happened?” somebody asked.
“You’ll have to let the police fill you in,” Reese said, sliding a hand around her waist as he tried to lead her through the crowd.
It was only when she felt the warmth of his fingers against her very bare skin that she realized she hadn’t re-buttoned her coat, which she’d unfastened in the heat of the store. Gaping open, it revealed her costume in all its glory to the wide-eyed strangers. She reached for the edges of it, intending to yank it closed. But before she could, a male voice called, “Hey, sweet thing, how late you working tonight?”
Another one added, “Got a business card?”
Though she knew she should be absolutely mortified, and maybe even a little nervous, more laughter bubbled up inside her. The size of the crowd, the presence of a few normally dressed women and tourists, and the two police officers right inside the closest building eased her hint of fear.
And the embarrassment? Hell, she was so far past that, she couldn’t even remember what it felt like.
Beside her, Reese made a small sound. Worried, she glanced over and saw his lips twitch. Relief flowed through her. His anger and concern had finally eased up and he was beginning to see the humor in the situation, too.
“Sorry, guys, she’s retired,” he said, tugging her closer to his side.
“Since when?”
Following his lead, she sidled closer to Reese. Glued to his side from ankle to hip, she slipped her arm around his waist, too. Dropping her head onto his shoulder and simpering a little, she pointed toward a small white building across the street. “Since I roped myself a man tonight at that wedding chapel over there. Jeez, what’s a girl gotta do to enjoy her wedding night?”
The two potential clients groaned, but the others surrounding them started to laugh and call out congratulations. They were probably going to go back home and tell their friends and family they’d stumbled into a real-life version of Pretty Woman.
Reese, wicked amusement dancing in his eyes, took full advantage, playing to the crowd. Without warning, he tugged her closer, turning her so their faces were inches apart, then he caught her mouth in a deep, intimate kiss.
She forgot about everything for a full minute. The robbery, the thug, the cops, the onlookers. When Reese kissed her like this, all hot and wet, with delicious strokes of his tongue, everything else just ceased to exist.
When they finally ended the kiss, it was to the sound of applause. “Way to go, girlfriend!” someone yelled.
She didn’t have to force the note of breathless excitement as she asked, “Can we please get outta here, hubby-cakes?”
“You got it, sugar-britches,” Reese replied, compressing his lips, trying so hard not to laugh.
He amazed her. From sexy playmate, to hero who’d literally saved her butt, to serious witness, to passionate lover, and back to the most playful, good-humored, self-confident man she’d ever known, all in the span of an hour.
She’d known before tonight that Reese Campbell was a great guy. But as she let him lead her away, holding her protectively, lovingly, like a new husband with his bride, she had to acknowledge that he was even more than that.
He was special. Very special. The kind of man women read about in romance novels and dreamed about actually meeting.
He was, to use his favorite word, just about perfect.
Perfect for her? Well, that she wasn’t ready to concede, at least not in the long term. But for right now, there was simply no place else she’d rather be … and no one else on earth she’d rather be with.
New Year’s Eve
THEY SPENT THE ENTIRE holiday week in Las Vegas. And this time, after that first night when their game playing had nearly gotten them into legal trouble, they’d let all the other identities fade away. It was just Reese and Amanda, spending every minute of the day together.
They gambled, they saw a few shows, they walked the strip and shopped. They laughed over pizza dinners and shared a bucket of popcorn as they went to see a movie, which neither of them had done for so long.
And finally, eventually, they even talked.
“You’re sure you don’t mind leaving before midnight?” Amanda asked as they reentered their room at around eleven-thirty on New Year’s Eve.
“My ears have been ringing all week from the sound of the slot machines. Add a few thousand voices screaming ‘Happy New Year’ and I might go deaf.” Before he’d even reached back to lock the door, he drew her into his arms and kissed her cheek. “In other words, no, I most definitely do not mind sharing a quiet celebration with you.”
Though he had never seen her drink much, Amanda had enjoyed a couple of glasses of champagne at the hotel’s holiday party downstairs. Though not drunk, he’d have to describe her as slightly tipsy. Her eyes sparkled and her always beautiful smile flashed a little wider. Though nobody would ever call her giddy, when she kicked off her shoes and spun around the room with her arms extended straight out, she looked pretty darn close.
She also looked damn near adorable—young and carefree. Her black cocktail dress was tight to the waist, but flared on the bottom and it swirled prettily around her bare legs.
“I love New Year’s,” she admitted once she stopped twirling.
He never had understood the appeal of the holiday himself, having grown up hearing his father calling it amateur night: the night normally smart, rational people drank too much then drove drunk. In their line of work, they knew way too much about it. The Campbells had always stayed home on New Year’s Eve.
“It doesn’t sound like the kind of holiday your family would be into,” he said, his tone careful, as always, when the subject of her family life came up.
Amanda laughed out loud. “Are you kidding? Hell no, they weren’t into it.” Her voice lowered and her brow pulled down in a deep frown. “‘This holiday is just an excuse for people to use poor judgment and do things they know are immoral and indecent. No daughter of mine is going to participate in public drunkenness or lewdity.’”
The imitation had to be of her father, though, honestly, he couldn’t imagine this woman having grown up with someone like that. “Not exactly Mr. Tender Loving Care?”
She snorted. “I don’t think he knows the meaning of any of those words.” She thought about it, then clarified. “Well, mister he gets very well. He has kept my mother in her place since the minute he proposed to her. But tender, loving and care just aren’t part of his vocabulary. Not toward her, not toward anyone” She yawned widely, as if she were discussing something mundane rather than utterly heartbreaking. “And I guess living with him all these years has rubbed off. Because my mother is about as warm as a guppy, too.”
He glanced away so she wouldn’t see the sudden flash of sympathy—and even anger—in his face. There was no malice in her. This wasn’t an adult kid blaming her poor, unknowing parents for some imaginary slights. She didn’t even sound resentful. She’d simply accepted their frigidity as a fact and moved on.
How much of their coldness had she unintentionally absorbed? How deeply had it affected her own life, her choices, the face she showed to the world? Seeing her like this, hearing the truths she’d been trying to hide from him since the very beginning, he understood so much more … and he liked her all the more for it. Even though he knew she would probably resent any sympathy he tried to offer.
He forced the thoughts away, as well as the unpleasant subject of what her parents had or hadn’t given her in her childhood. Not wanting her to even think about it anymore, he changed the subject. “So when did you become a New Year’s convert?”
She plopped down onto the edge of the bed. “In college. My freshman boyfriend took me to my very first New Year’s Eve party and I got completely caught up in everyone else’s excitement and good mood.”
He hid his interest in the “boyfriend” part.
“I loved all the resolutions, the anticipation of a clean slate, a fresh start. And I suddenly saw it as a chance to reevaluate, figure out what went wrong in the past year and plan on how to make it right in the coming one.”
Interesting. He had to wonder what she had evaluated and planned on this particular holiday. But he knew better than to ask. He shrugged out of his suit jacket and tossed it aside, then sat in a chair opposite the bed, eyeing her. “What did you decide that first year?”
“To dump my boyfriend.”
Caught off guard, he had to chuckle. While that subject had been taboo up until now, Amanda laughed, as well. “He was a creeper,” she admitted.
“A … creeper?”
“He had moist hands and he was sneaky, always touching me. That was when I was only nineteen, and still a virgin.”
She’d held on to her virginity longer than most girls he knew. Considering her family background, he wasn’t entirely surprised. He doubted there had been much dating or teenage partying in her household.
“So we have the creeper,” he murmured, lifting his index finger to count off. “Who was next?”
Probably because she’d had a couple of drinks, Amanda didn’t immediately freeze him out and change the subject. Instead, she threw herself back on the bed, her brow scrunched as she thought about it.
“I dated around when I was a sophomore. Kind of a lot.” The way she nibbled her lip told him what that meant. She’d lost that pesky virginity and had gone for a walk on the wild side.
“Then I hooked up with a guy named Scott for several months. I broke up with him when I caught him copying the answers from my take-home exam for a class we had together. After that came Tommy … he drove a Porsche and I think I liked the car more than I liked him, which he eventually figured out.”
“Completely understandable,” he pointed out.
She ignored him. “Rick was nice, but the first time we slept together and I realized he was lousy in the sack, I stopped taking his calls.”
Again, completely understandable, at least for a college-aged kid. Not that he intended to interrupt her again, not now, when she seemed to really be getting to the nitty-gritty.
She was now the one with her fingers up. Mumbling under her breath, she lifted another, then another, and then moved on to her next hand. Up came the index finger. The middle one, then a third … which she quickly put back down. “Wait, Josh doesn’t really count.”
“Why not?” he asked, amused by this frank, open Amanda talking about her past. Even if she was only being that way because she’d had one too many sips of champagne.
“Because I was just a beard. I found out he was in the closet on our second date, but kept going out with him just ’cause he was a nice guy. Plus he had a crush on my roommate’s boyfriend, who I hated, and it made me laugh to keep him around.” Sitting up quickly, she gave him a stricken look. “Oh, that was bitchy, wasn’t it? I told you.”
“Yeah, yeah, you’re cast-iron, babe.”
So far, from what he could tell, she’d had about the same number of boyfriends as his twenty-something-year-old sisters. The difference being, from what he had pieced together in the past, that she had always been the one to walk away.
That refrain repeated in his mind. She always walked away.
He should have taken that as a warning sign, proceeded with caution. But he hadn’t … mostly because he wasn’t at all convinced Amanda was as anti-love-and-commitment as she claimed. She’d just never been involved with the right man. Whether that was pure happenstance, or by design—since her upbringing had to have soured her on the whole idea of personal relationships—he didn’t know.
“Come to think of it, I don’t feel so bad,” she suddenly said with a firm nod. “I didn’t break his heart or anything, so he had no business joining that Facebook group.” Her voice lowered. “No business at all.”
“What group?”
She hesitated, the finally admitted, “The ‘Dumped by Amanda Bauer’ group.”
He threw back his head and laughed … until he saw that she wasn’t smiling. Instead, her eyes held a hint of moisture and her bottom lip quivered. The tough girl actually looked vulnerable. Hurt.
Mentally kicking himself, he got up and joined her on the bed, pulling her into his arms. She burrowed into his chest, sniffing a tiny bit, and he suddenly had the urge to hunt down the pricks who’d formed the mean little club and made her cry.
Talk about ridiculous—holding on to some bullshit college gripes and sharing them with the world years later, no matter who you wounded. It was one way in which the Internet age definitely had not improved life.
Amanda let herself relax against him for a minute or two, then she began to tense, shifting uncomfortably. He recognized the signs and knew what she was thinking: too much emotion, too much talking, too personal, too dangerous.
He released her, forcing a smile. “It’s almost midnight.”
She didn’t smile back, her beautiful face still wearing that same sad, stricken expression. Amanda stared at him for a long moment, her green eyes revealing her every thought as her gaze traveled over his face, as if to memorize him for the not-too-distant future when she wouldn’t see him anymore.
“He wasn’t the last one,” she admitted.
“You don’t have to do this….”
She ignored him. “The last guy I dated decided if I wouldn’t just give him my undivided attention and devotion, he’d take it from me.”
He didn’t like the sound of this, not one bit.
“We had a fight, I broke it off, then he called in the middle of one night saying he’d just swallowed a bottle of pills.”
Oh, God. Whether she wanted it or not, he had to hold her, tightly, giving her the support and tenderness she never asked for. He kissed her hair, whispering, “It wasn’t your fault….”
She immediately shook her head. “No, he didn’t die or anything.”
Thank God.
“Because he was lying. The whole thing had been a setup, just to play on my emotions.”
“What’s his name?” he snarled, ready to kill a guy he’d just been thankful hadn’t died.
“It doesn’t matter. It’s all over, all in the past. The point is …” She hesitated, then, with a voice as shaky as her slowly indrawn breath, whispered, “Don’t love me, Reese.”
His heart broke a little. For the pain of her past affairs, for the heartbreaks, and for the cold family life she’d endured. They’d combined to create a beautiful, extremely lovable woman who didn’t think she was capable of returning the emotion.
She was wrong. She wouldn’t admit it, not now, maybe not for a long time. But he knew Amanda Bauer had feelings for him, deep ones. Just as he did for her.
Reese was no fool, however. So he said nothing, merely nodded slowly, as if agreeing to her command.
The bedside clock glowed red, catching his eye as the numbers shifted from 11:59 to 12:00. And suddenly it was a whole new year. A new future had opened up and the mistakes of the past seemed destined to be washed away, with only good things coming toward them.
“Happy New Year, Manda,” he whispered, leaning close to brush his lips against hers. “I hope this upcoming year is one neither of us will ever forget.”
Her soft lips parted and she kissed him back, sweetly, tenderly. In that kiss she said all the things she would not say out loud—that she wanted more, but was afraid to let herself ask for it.
She’d changed a lot in the two months he’d known her. The hard shell had started to crack, whether she liked it or not. One day, sooner or later, Amanda was going to realize she was capable of a lot more than she gave herself credit for. She was capable of loving, and of being loved.
He only hoped she let him stick around until that day came.