Traction - Dani Rene Page 0,37
place, which was practically hidden from the road, with bright lights calling us toward it.
I had never had a better burger, so I want to take Haelee there and show her something I like. And hopefully, we can get to know each other better over lunch. When I pull into the lot of the diner, I notice it’s not too busy, which I’m thankful for.
“What is this place?”
“You ask that a lot,” I tease her.
“Well, you take me to a lot of new places, so I have to ask,” she sasses me with an eye roll that makes me chuckle. Her fire really does it for me, but I don’t say anything about it. Instead, I push open my door and motion for her to do the same.
We meet at the hood of my car, and I once again take her hand. I like how small she feels, how fragile, but I know deep down she’s anything but.
She’s a fierce warrior who’s slowly winning over my heart.
Inside, we grab a booth, and the server comes to hand over our menus and take our drink order. I ask for a Coke, and Haelee gets an orange juice. Once we’re alone, I set the menu down and look at her.
“What’s good here?” Haelee asks as she peruses the card, the list of items I’m not interested in because I know what I’m having. She looks up at me when I don’t respond, and I smile.
“Bacon cheeseburger with pickles and fries,” I tell her. “That’s what we’re having.”
The corner of her mouth tilts, her gaze narrowing on me. “What if I don’t like burgers?”
“Everyone likes burgers,” I counter. “Don’t tell me you don’t enjoy fries either, because that has to be a lie.”
This time, she smiles, shaking her head. “You’re so overbearing. Yes, I do love fries. I can eat them all day, every day,” she admits. “Are you sure I’m going to like the burger?”
“Best burger on the West Coast,” I reply because I know it’s the truth. “And once we’re done with lunch, we’re having ice cream. Chocolate with mint chips inside.”
She scrunches her nose as if the idea of mint and chocolate repulses her, but I’ll show her just how delicious it is. “I don’t know about that. Perhaps just plain chocolate will do.”
“Take a chance.” My words have a double meaning. I want her to let her guard down. I’ve only seen hints of the girl underneath, but most times, she hides behind her sass. I want to see the broken girl because I want to mend her. I want to heal her pain with affection and show her she’s worth so much more than I can offer.
“I have,” she admits. “I’m sitting here. Aren’t I?”
The server brings our drinks, and I place the order for our burgers, so I don’t answer her just yet, but the moment we’re alone, I lean forward, my hands up and open, wanting hers. She slips her delicate fingers over my palms, which sends shockwaves of heat coursing through my veins. My body is alert, the desire from our kiss still lingering, still burning.
“Then don’t be scared to trust me,” I implore her. Even though I’ve never done this before, and even though I’m afraid I’m bad for her, I can’t leave. More importantly, I don’t want to walk away.
“It takes time,” she says finally. “Give me some time. This is so new to me. I didn’t think I’d be dating a racer. Let alone one that left a bad first impression.” A small smile graces her lips when she says this, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes and the reminder of my asshole ways. But then she continues, “Relationships still scare the crap out of me.”
“Well, they scare the crap out of me too.” I hope she can see the honesty in my eyes because it’s the only way I know she’ll open up. “But I’m here, and I want this to work.”
“Then it will work,” she says. “Just don’t do anything, assholey.”
I can’t help but laugh out loud. “Assholey?” This time, my brow arches in question, along with the word she just made up.
Her cheeks deepen their usual pink, and she smiles. “Yeah, it’s a new word I made up. Don’t overuse it.” The air between us lifts from the serious conversation to a safer topic when she says, “What was the first car you ever drove?”
Talking about cars is something I can do all day every day.