A clattering sound pulls us apart far too soon. I struggle to extract myself from the romantic fog he’s created around us. When I do, his gaze is on me, and the intense desire I observe steals my breath.
“Wow.” I exhale.
He grins. “Yeah.”
“Evening, folks!” A waitress once again interrupts us. It’s probably for the best right now, anyways. “Can I get you something to drink? Tell you the specials?” She pops her gum at the last part.
Arsen doesn’t take his eyes off me as he orders. “Two burgers with everything, large fries, and a cherry monster shake.” He hands her the menus we’d been given earlier, and she walks away shaking her head in amusement.
“I take it you’ve eaten here before?” I smile.
“Once or twice.” He shrugs, and we fall into a comfortable silence for a few minutes before he says, “Tell me about the accident.”
“You could probably look it all up,” I respond.
“I could.” He agrees.
I get the feeling he won’t, though. “Umm, what do you want to know?”
“Everything.”
Looking away, I think about the best way to tell him while avoiding the seriousness of my injuries. “Do you remember the Semi rollover on Interstate 24 last spring? A trailer fell on top of a car after the Semi swerved to miss hitting some idiot on a crotch rocket.”
He’s thoughtful for a minute before recognition and sadness enter his look. “There was never mention of the woman in the car after about a week. Only the truck driver and bike driver.”
Choking back the emotion lodged in my throat, I let out a harsh breath. “Right. I refused to speak to reporters, so they didn’t care too much about me.” My chuckle is harsh and humorless.
“That trailer fell on your car?” He’s in disbelief.
“It was a moving truck, and I think it saved my life.”
“God damn, Marina.” He’s choked up for words now. His eyes explore mine, maybe searching for the scars I feel, maybe to assess how messed up I am. “Fuck.” His curse is harsh as he runs a hand down his face.
In a way, I’m relieved he’s not asking more questions, so I change the subject to something hopefully less dramatic. “Do you have siblings?”
He sends me a dubious look before answering, knowing I’m changing topics. “Two. Both younger. Kol is 32 and a homicide detective in Knoxville, and Ember is 19. She’s studying to become a social worker at UT.”
“That’s a big age gap. Is Knoxville where you’re from?”
“Born and raised. Em was an oops baby for our folks. She was also kind of awesome.”
“Fun?” I smile, liking the way he lights up talking about his siblings.
“Very. She was quieter than Kol and I. We got in trouble as often as possible. Em would tag along as she got older, but not once did she squeal on us.”
“That’s sweet. Where are your parents? Still in Knoxville?” They sound like a close-knit family.
“My parents died five years ago, actually.” He looks away, and I feel like a jerk.
“I’m so sorry, Arsen.”
“Thank you. It was quick, and they were together.”
Silence surrounds us as I try to pull my foot from my mouth. “Why did you move here if your family is there?”
“I came here about seven years ago on a case. Loved the city, the atmosphere, and I needed a change. I applied at MNPD and the rest, as they say, is history.” He smiles, and I can see how happy he is with the choice to come here. Not that I’m complaining, but I find myself wondering why he needed the change. Only I lack the courage to ask.
Chapter Eight