Raid - By Kristen Ashley Page 0,15

and a skintight tee (which were always awesome), but a nice, dark pair of jeans, a deep green shirt with a subtle pattern in it that looked good with his skin, hair and eyes, and a black belt and black boots (which were awesomer).

Delicious.

“Hey,” I greeted and it came out breathy.

He didn’t reply.

His eyes were moving down and they were taking their time. After they hit my shoes, they stayed there awhile. Then, just as slowly, they came back up.

They hit mine and the look in them made my heart, already beating like a jackhammer, go into overdrive.

“Hey,” he rumbled.

I’d practiced this while doing my makeup (and hair) so I was able to take a slight step back, motion inside with my hand and ask, “Do we have time for you to come in for a drink?”

“You don’t want me comin’ in for a drink,” was his reply, and I felt my brows draw together.

“I don’t?”

“You, that dress, those shoes, that hair, beverages and furniture you can get horizontal on would not be a good combination.”

“Oh,” I whispered, and with his words it hit me like a shot that he was into me.

The date kind of said that, but his words stated clearly he wasn’t just into me.

Raiden Ulysses Miller was into me.

I felt that warmth settle in, digging deep, as he kept talking.

“Not to mention, we got a reservation and I’m hungry.” He leaned in and grabbed my hand. “Let’s go.”

He drew me out onto the porch, and I had just enough presence of mind to grab the door handle and pull it to as he did. I started across the porch, but stopped when his hand tightened in mine.

I turned back.

“You gonna lock it?” he asked.

I stared at him, moved my stare to the door then brought it back to him.

“Sorry?”

He shifted closer and my breath went faster. “You gonna lock the door?”

“Um… I never lock the door.”

It was Raiden’s turn to stare at me.

Then his hand gave mine a squeeze and he ordered, “Get your keys.”

“My keys?”

“Your keys,” he stated firmly.

He was hungry, and I had a feeling this discussion could go all night (with me losing), so I nodded, hustled to the door, went through and scurried to the kitchen. Since I never locked up (seeing as I didn’t have to; neither did Mom and Dad, we lived in the boonies for goodness sakes—unless they knew we were out there, no one came around) it took some doing, but I found a set of house keys and hurried back, walked through the door, closed and locked it.

I turned to him. “Ready.”

“While you were in there, you lock the back?” he asked.

I blinked.

He grinned.

I blinked again.

He leaned into me, tugged the keys from of my fingers and unlocked the door. He opened it, sauntered through and disappeared, then came back, locked the door, pocketed the keys and grabbed my hand.

“Let’s go,” he murmured.

We went, Raiden holding my hand as we walked across the porch and down the steps. Then he let me go, but only to swing his arm around my shoulders and pull me into his side as we moved to his Jeep.

Nice.

Nicer still, he walked me to the passenger side and opened the door for me.

Three boyfriends; not one opened any door for me.

Already phenomenal, Raiden Miller just kept getting better.

His hand cupped my elbow as I climbed in then he closed the door.

Definitely kept getting better.

I was buckled up when he swung in the other side. He started up, reversed at an angle and we took off.

“Talk to your grandmother today?” he asked, and I turned to him.

Holy Moses.

I was sitting next to Raiden in his Jeep.

I couldn’t believe it.

Beautiful. Him. The moment. Everything.

I didn’t have time to let that settle as deep as I wanted. I had to respond or he’d think I was a freak, staring at him silently but reverently.

“Yeah, I talk to her every day,” I answered.

“How’s she doin’?” he asked.

“Busy, seeing as she’s been calling everyone in town and half of her family in Louisiana to tell them she has a new yard boy.”

I watched him smile.

Yes.

Beautiful.

“Took half a year for her to open the door when I rang yesterday, another half followin’ her as she walked from the front to the back, slow as molasses. But the woman’s fingers work just fine,” Raiden said. “Had four people stop me today to say they thought it was cool I was seein’ to Miss Mildred’s yard.”

“She’s generous,” I shared. “Something