CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
Oh look, Tex was right. Shit, meet fan.
Nixon
"Ready?" I held out my hand to Trace. She looked beautiful in a short black dress. My eyes went lower. And Chase's boots. Right, so it was like he was on a date with us. Fantastic. Bastard. I was going to burn those boots one day.
The entire day had gone so freaking slow I thought time had actually stopped just to torment me. As it was, I had gotten to Trace's dorm fifteen minutes early, only to find myself checking my watch and then tapping the glass, thinking it wasn't working.
I hadn't been on a date since…
Well honestly, I'd never been on a date, not that I was going to tell Trace that. There wasn't really room for dating in my life. There had been room for one-night stands, promises never made, secrets never shared, but I'd never had an honest-to-God relationship, which is probably why I was ready to start pacing in front of my car.
When she finally appeared, I damn-near swallowed my tongue whole. How could a girl that beautiful truly not know it?
Trace took my hand. "Yup."
"Still hate me?" I asked once we were safely in the bulletproof Range Rover.
"Still not telling me who you are?" came her snarky reply, making me want to pull over and kiss her senseless.
"And off we go!" I laughed to cover up for my insane need to dip my tongue into her mouth. "So, you may have noticed we don't have security tonight."
She nodded and tilted her head toward me, twisting her hands in her lap like she was nervous I was going to bite.
Perhaps I would.
"Why?"
"Other than the fact I'm packing?" I said in a rare moment of honesty.
She was silent.
Good job, Nixon. Scare the shit out of the girl you want to date. Good move. Five minutes in, and she was probably looking for an exit out of the moving vehicle.
"Chill." I pulled through the open security gate. "It was a joke."
"So you aren't packing?" She gulped.
"Not technically," I said slowly.
"Right." She turned on the AC and closed her eyes. "So where are we going? I'm guessing it's safe, since we're not having to worry about security?"
"Absolutely."
"Cool."
"Want to know where?" I couldn't pull back the smile that had forced its way onto my face.
She let out a little laugh. "You want to tell me, don't you?"
"So bad." I leaned over the steering wheel and fought the urge to laugh like a kid. I was excited — more than excited she'd said yes — and I had planned the best date in the history of dates, guns included.
"Surprise me."
"I get too excited when it comes to surprises," I grumbled. Probably because I had a shit childhood, and the one and only time my dad said surprise to me was when he opened the box he used to trap me in, only to throw in my teddy bear so I'd stop crying. "Okay, I'm going to try, but you can't talk to me, or else I'm going to blurt everything and ruin it, okay?"
"Not talk to you? Whatever will I do?"
I felt my blood heat as I eyed her up and down. "I've got a few ideas of other things you could do with your mouth—"
"And I'm pretty sure if I searched hard enough, I could find a gun and shoot off your man-parts, so say that again. I dare you."
I gulped, too aroused for words. Damn, just imaging her pointing a gun at me had me ready to strip her naked. How sick was that? "Silence, it is."
"That's what I thought."
"Damn." I shook my head. "Well played."
"I know." She smirked and gave me another glance out of the corner of her eye. It was like she didn't want me to know she was staring. I almost flexed my bicep but decided against it.
A thick silence descended in the car. Between her staring at my face and me trying not to look at her legs in that short skirt, I was ready to lose my mind.
"Almost there." Losing the battle, I reached over and placed my hand on her thigh. She had tights on, making it so I couldn't feel her skin, but damn did I feel the heat against my palm. Touching her sent me into overdrive. It was already the best date of my life, and we hadn't even done anything yet.
She let out a little gasp.
"Okay?" I pulled down the familiar dirt road. "Close your eyes."
She looked around us then closed them. "Are you going to kill me?"
"No." I let out a bark of laughter. Please. Like I'd kill her on my own property. That would be just lazy on my part.
She seemed to relax.
"I didn't bring my silencer." I just had to say it, didn't I? The guys would have laughed their asses off. Trace? Not so much. She stiffened under my touch and tried to jerk away, but I held on for dear life.
"Trace, calm down. This is supposed to be fun, remember?"
"Yeah," she said breathlessly.
I turned off the car and made my way around to her door, carefully unbuckling the seatbelt before lifting her into my arms.
She sighed, her breath tickling my neck, and in that moment, life stood still. Things were perfect. Life was as it should be.
The girl I'd sworn to protect as a boy.
Was finally in my arms as a man.
I didn't want to let her go, but knew I had to. I couldn't just hold her the entire date — as much as I wanted to.
Finally, I set her on her feet. "Open your eyes."
"Are those—"
"Cows." I laughed, staring out at the large pasture. "Yes, real live cows. I hear they even moo from time to time. And this…" I pointed behind us. "…is our picnic under the stars."
"With the cows," she added, her voice filled with wonder.
"With the cows. Though I've heard a few goats live out here too. Don't want to leave out any farm creatures and take a chance on offending them."
"Right." Her lower lip trembled.
Sighing, I pulled her into my arms and held her. I kissed her head twice, wanting a third, fourth, fifth, sixth, seventh— Hell, honest moment? I wanted all of them. Every. Single. One.
"I know you miss it. I know you miss your grandpa." It still pissed me off to think that he'd thrown her to the wolves — literally. "But being at Elite it's where you belong." With me, always with me. "As much as you miss all of this "You're home. Right here." In my arms. Like it should have been a long time ago. I'd be damned if I was ever letting her go.
"Hungry?" I released her.
"Starved." She walked over to the back of the Range Rover. "Nope, you sit right here." I opened the trunk, picked her up, and sat her on the ledge so her feet dangled off. "There now. Stay put while I get this all ready."
I pulled the blankets from the back and started laying them on top of one another. The grass was semi-wet from the rain the night before. Four blankets later, and I was confident the wetness wouldn't seep through. I grabbed the containers of lasagna and spaghetti and placed them on the blanket along with the paper plates.
When everything looked good, I lit a cylinder candle, put it inside the lantern, and set it in the middle of the picnic.
I glanced at Trace and held out my hand. "Your dinner awaits."
She jumped off the back of the SUV and gripped my hand, then took a seat on the blanket. "Thank you."
We sat in silence while I poured her a cup of sparkling cider and handed it to her.
Since I'd never been on a date, I wasn't sure if I would offend her by piling her plate as high as mine. Then again, she was Italian, even if she didn't know it, and one thing about Italians? We eat. We eat a lot. Food cures the soul and all that. So I piled the food onto her plate and handed it to her, hoping I wouldn't get slapped for assuming she could eat her body weight in pasta.
With a giggle, she took the plate and stabbed her fork into the still-steaming food. She brought it to her lips and let out the sexiest moan known to humanity.
"Shit." The fork fell out of my hand and landed on the lasagna, causing it to drip onto the blanket. "Sorry, it's just…" I looked away and took a long gulp of the ci
der, wishing like hell it had alcohol. "Ah, slippery fork and all."
"Right, because of the rain." She rolled her eyes and took a bite of spaghetti. What I wouldn't do to be that freaking fork. She winked and let out another perfectly timed moan. Just as I took another sip of cider.
I started choking to death.
"Are you okay?" She leaned over and patted my back, her damn dress showing me something black, something lacy, something that needed to be removed immediately.
I nodded and took her cider. I drank half of it before placing it back on the blanket. "Yeah..." My voice sounded like I'd just finished smoking two packs. "…I just… was… choking."
"Right." Her eyes narrowed mischievously.
My face went hot all over.
Great, so now I blushed? I was that guy?
"Who made the food?" she asked after a few more bites.
"I did."
Laughing, she pushed me with her free hand and took another bite.
"You don't believe me?" I asked, a bit insulted. "You think I'd lie about something as important as food?"
She dropped her fork and held her hands in the air in mock surrender. "Sorry, Nixon. Yes, I believe you, and if you ever get tired of running around in your little gang, you could become a world-renowned chef."
"My little gang," I repeated. Memories of my childhood came crashing to the forefront of my mind. "You sound like Ma."
"How?" Trace tucked her legs underneath her.
"She used to call us guys her little gang." I pushed some food around my plate, losing my appetite as a vision of her lifeless eyes flashed before me. "Not so much anymore."
Trace pointed at the food. "Did she teach you how to cook?"
"Oh yeah, my father hated it." I leaned down on my side and smiled. "I spent all my early years in the kitchen, holding onto my mom's skirts and testing all her food. She cooked a lot."
Trace's eyes widened before she looked out into the pasture, her face unreadable.
"What?" Nixon urged.
"Nothing." She gave her head a shake. "Or, well... It's just — I don't remember much from when I was little. Grandpa said everything was too traumatizing with my parents dying and all, but I remember being in a kitchen with this little boy and getting in a food fight."
I chuckled because I'd been that little boy, and she'd called me stupid. "What happened?"
"I think he got mad because the cook let me have a taste of the cookie dough first. Anyway, all I remember is that he threw dough at me, and I threw it back at him. We fought, and I think he tripped and hit the side of his head on the counter. I'm sure it left a scar."
"Wow, you were a terrible child." I nodded my head, happy that she'd remembered part of the story even if she hadn't remembered me. It was a good memory. "I'm impressed."
I scooted as close to her as I could without scaring her.
When she glanced up, she jolted then grabbed my hand.
"Do you remember anything else about your parents?" I asked softly, prodding, hoping, wishing. It would be so much easier if she actually knew the truth or discovered it on her own. What would happen if I told her? Would she have a psychotic break? Even believe me? And why did I have to be the one to tell her? Damn Frank. "Or would you rather not talk about it?"
"I don't really know how I feel about it." She shrugged, hugging her arms to her body then scooting closer to me. "I mean, the memories are so scattered."
"Like a movie you can't remember?" I asked, thinking about my own traumatic past. Some of the images were just like that, pictures that seemed fake, except I was in them.
"Something like that. I see pieces…"
"Tell me one…" I leaned over and kissed her cheek. "…if you don't mind."
"Alright, um… I remember things being really loud when I was little. We always had people over, lots and lots of people. I remember the dough thing… and a really pretty woman."
Holy shit. This was it. Come on Trace, put the puzzle together. "I like pretty women."
"Very funny." She squeezed my hand. "I don't know why I always remember her. I know it wasn't my mom, because I've seen pictures and remember her face a bit."
"What did this pretty woman look like, hmm?" I moved my hand from hers and started massaging her neck. My entire body was taut with frustration to finish the story for her, to fill in the pieces that were needed in order to write our ending.
She clenched her teeth. "She… she had really blue eyes. Like yours."
My hand stopped moving as anticipation wracked my body.
"And she had a really pretty laugh. It sounded like…"
"Church bells," I finished, unable to help myself.
She jerked away. "What?"
Shit. I dropped my head. Too soon. I knew it was too soon. "I read minds. Why, what were you going to say?"
Trace's eyes pierced right through me, making the guilt all the worse. Because I knew the answers to her questions but was unable to give them to her. Better she not know than I tell her and put her life in danger. It already was the more time she spent with me.
I stood and held out my hand. "Dance with me."
"In front of the cows?" her voice squeaked.
"Uh, yeah." I glanced between her and the cows. "I don't think they'll mind. Why, what kind of dancing were you thinking of doing? Were you hoping to embarrass the cows and get them to moo?"
Narrowing her eyes, she swatted me with her hand then stood.
"Come on." I tugged her body against mine so there was no space between us. I couldn't use words with her. After all, words were never safe, and they were easily twisted.
But showing her? I could do that. Even if it meant I had to stay silent the rest of my existence, I'd show her by my actions.
That to me?
She was everything.
Enforce Page 39