Joy’s killer had been a biker. And though, as a twelve-year-old, she hadn’t believed it was the MC who murdered her twin, what the hell did she really know? She’d been twelve. Once evidence had been found proving Curly was the murderer, her father tore that club apart, limb from limb, finding any and everything he could arrest the group for. Without the leadership of their behind-bars president, the club crumbled in under a year.
Last she’d heard, the vice president of that club was serving twenty years for a slew of crimes, and anyone who’d managed to escape her father’s wrath had scattered in the wind.
Holly groaned. Why, oh, why did LJ have to be a biker?
“You okay?”
“Oh, uh, yeah, sure. I’m great.” As she racked her brain for something interesting to discuss, their salt-and-pepper haired waiter dressed in black slacks with a silky black vest over a maroon oxford shirt arrived, balancing their oversize plates on his outstretched arm.
“Lobster ravioli for the lady,” he said as he presented her plate with a flourish. The tantalizing scent of butter and cream chased away her impending foul mood. Man, it smelled like nirvana on a plate. “And the short rib tagliatelle for the gentleman. Anyone care for some fresh parmesan?”
“Uh, yes me. Definitely me,” Holly said, practically bouncing in her seat.
“I like a girl who isn’t afraid to eat,” Rick said as he waved away the offer of cheese.
Their waiter winced and cast Holly a sympathetic look. God, how she hated when men said that dreaded phrase. It was one thing to say it to a twiggy girl who had a racing metabolism, but to say it to a girl constantly fighting to lose those extra ten pounds? Okay, fine, fifteen. Yeah, he might as well have said, “You’re a little overweight, but I don’t mind.”
“That’s me,” she said, with a little more bite than she’d meant. “The girl who loves to eat.”
“Can I get a refill on my wine?” Rick asked the waiter.
Seriously? He was gonna drink more? Holly resisted the urge to roll her eyes and sent a prayer of thanks to the heavens for having the foresight to meet him at the restaurant in her own car. No matter how lame LJ thought it was.
Must not think about LJ.
The rest of their meal went fine. Holly managed to be pleasant, Rick was pleasant enough, the food was outstanding, but not a single spark ignited between them. Not even a sparklet. Rick didn’t commit any major dating faux pas, but he didn’t wow her by any means, either. This relationship was pretty much doomed to stay at the acquaintance level. Holly wasn’t even sure they’d make it to the friend zone.
After paying for their dinner, Rick stood and nearly toppled his chair. Looked like he had indeed committed one faux pas, getting smashed on date one. He caught himself with a chuckle and reached for her arm, more to steady himself than to guide her toward the door.
“You going to be okay to drive yourself home there, buddy?” Holly asked as she slowed her pace to match his stagger.
With a grunt, he slid his arm around her waist. Had he not seemed to need the stability to remain upright, Holly would have wormed her way out from his touch. “Pretty sure I’d have to arrest myself if I tried to drive out of here.” He laughed then like he’d told the funniest joke in the world.
“Right,” she said with a phony chuckle as she pushed the door to the outside open. “How about I give you a ride home?” Exactly the scenario she’d been hoping to avoid. End of night awkwardness. Though maybe he was too hammered to notice.
“How about we head to your place instead. Have a nightcap.” With a move she’d have thought he was too drunk to pull off, Rick spun and crowded her against the wall. The leering stare he gave her confirmed nightcap was code for sex.
Not happening in this or any other lifetime.
“Oh, uh, I uh, have a super early meeting tomorrow.” True, but it was also true that had Rick been someone she was interested in, someone like say…LJ, she might have taken him up on the offer. It’d been a reeeally long time since she’d gotten laid.
Dammit. There LJ was again. Popping in all over her date.
“How early?” Rick ran his nose up the side of her cheek. Poor schmuck probably thought it was some kind of sexy caress, but unfortunately, he overshot the pressure in his drunken state and pretty much mashed his nose against her face.
“Too early to stay up much longer.” Holly bent her knees and ducked under his arm. “But I’m more than happy to drop you at home before I head to my apartment.” She shot a quick glance to the sky in anticipation of the lightning strike. She’d take him because it was the right thing to do but “more than happy” was an outright lie.