Dead Pretty - Samantha Towle Page 0,38

my hair as best I can, tucking away stray hairs behind my ears.

“Stop worrying. You look beautiful.” Jack’s hand slips into mine, giving it a gentle squeeze.

My eyes lift to his. “I’m not worried.” Liar.

His brow lifts, his expression one of skepticism.

“Fine.” I sigh. “I just feel a tad underdressed for this place.”

“I never took you to be a person who cared what others thought.”

“I’m not.” The old me … she would have cared though. “But I also don’t like to stand out either.”

Jack regards me with those clever eyes of his. Like he is reading my thoughts.

Thankfully, the hostess approaches, breaking the moment.

She’s around my age and very pretty.

“Hi, guys.” She smiles at Jack, not me. I can’t even be mad because I get it. I would be the same if I were her. “Do you have a reservation?” she asks him.

“Yes,” he tells her. “Canti. Table for two.”

She glances down at the listings on the hostess stand, running her finger down the paper. “Yep, here you are.” She grabs two menus and says, “Follow me, please.”

She leads us over to a table for two by the window. Jack pulls the chair out for me.

“Still being a gentleman?” I tease, taking the seat, referring back to his earlier comment that practically set my libido on fire. A fire that still hasn’t gone out.

Still, I shouldn’t have brought it up because saying stuff like that is only going to move things with him in a direction that it shouldn’t go.

Like Jack and me having sex.

Jack sits in the seat across from me, taking his menu from the hostess, his eyes fixed solely on me. “You ready for me to stop being a gentleman? Because we can leave right now and go back to your apartment.”

To bed.

His meaning is crystal clear, and the sexual tension thickens the air between us.

I can’t help the smile that tips up my lips and the words that leave my mouth. “You have to feed me first.”

So, apparently, I am going to have sex with him tonight.

Seems my sense and life rules got lost somewhere along that trail we walked the dogs on before.

That, or the sight of Jack’s tight ass walking in front of me in those jeans woke the old Audrey up. She never had any qualms with talking about sex openly. Was confident with men. Until …

Nope, not going there right now.

I am enjoying this little game the two of us are suddenly playing though. It makes me feel … alive.

The old me is back for the night, and I honestly like it.

There is nothing clean about the grin that Jack gives me. He rests his elbows on the table, linking his fingers together, stare still fixed on me.

I can’t look away from him either. I feel like it’s only the two of us in the world now.

It’s exhilarating and utterly fucking terrifying.

A shadow falls over the table, breaking the moment between us. Leaving whatever Jack was about to say a mystery.

“What can I get you both to drink?” asks the waiter.

Jack and I both order beers, and the waiter leaves to get our drinks.

I stare out the window, needing to collect my thoughts for a minute. Wanting to gain at least a smidgen of composure back. I’ve never felt so unbalanced yet more like my old self than I do around Jack.

It’s started snowing again. I watch the flakes drift lazily to the ground.

“Will your bike be okay?” I gesture to the weather.

“The bike will be fine. You and I will most likely have damp asses from the ride back home though.”

I’m already damp, just from looking at you, so no worries there.

I chuckle. More at my own dirty thought than what Jack said.

“I should get a car really,” he says. “Having the bike in this climate isn’t exactly ideal.”

I can’t imagine Jack driving anything other than his motorbike. Although a car would be nice to ride in on the way home. A wet ass is not high on my list of things to have.

“Have you always ridden motorbikes?” I ask him.

“Pretty much. Although I didn’t get to ride so much when I was in the military.”

“Too busy driving tanks?” I smile, resting my chin in my hand.

“Something like that.”

“Maybe you don’t have to get rid of the bike. You could keep it to use in the summer and just have a car for winter.”

“Does this place even have a summer?” he asks, leaning back in his chair.

“So I’ve been told.” I