“I wish you wouldn’t,” I mutter, but the shake of her shoulders as she walks down the front steps indicates that she heard me.
Like the gentleman my mother raised, I open the passenger side door of the SUV, my eyes locked on her legs like a creep as she climbs inside. I’m grateful for the height of the vehicle when I have to adjust the situation in my pants as I circle around the front before climbing inside.
I take one last look at her house before backing out of her driveway.
“I noticed the broken flowerpots on your front porch,” I say as we drive across town to the restaurant.
Faith sighs, her eyes focused out the windshield. “I’ve been meaning to trash those. There are some kids in the neighborhood who don’t value other people’s things. They knocked over my mailbox recently too.”
“Have you called the cops?”
“The cops?” She chuckles. “For a couple of kids acting out? No, I haven’t called the cops.”
“What did your cameras show?”
“I don’t have cameras on my house, Ethan.”
My jaw flexes at the thought of her having limited or no security at her house. It’s only going to ramp up that same worry that’s been threatening to give me an ulcer over the last several weeks.
“Do you have plans with your family for Christmas?” I ask, trying to steer away from complicated subjects, ones I have way too many opinions on that I don’t think she’d appreciate considering how independent she is.
“No.” Her response is flat and emotionless.
“There’s still time to make plans.”
“I don’t have a family, Ethan.” I hazard a glance in her direction before turning back to focus on driving.
“Sorry. I didn’t mean to—”
“I was in foster care from the time I was seven until adulthood. My mother died in a car accident, and I’ve never known who my father is.”
“I’m sor—”
“Can we talk about something else?”
“Of course,” I answer immediately, but then silence fills the vehicle because my brain is malfunctioning, making it impossible to think of something off the top of my head.
The rest of the ride to dinner is silent, the air around us growing thick and nearly suffocating.
“Listen,” Faith says, turning in her seat to face me when I park. “I just don’t like talking about my past. I don’t want to ruin our evening. So let’s go inside, order a glass of wine and chat about the weather.”
“The weather?”
She nods. “Anything to bring back the smile you had on your face when I opened my front door.”
I bite the corner of my bottom lip, my eyes immediately dipping to the column of her neck.
“Maybe not the weather then,” she deduces when she notices where my eyes have landed.
“The topics arising in my head may ruin the date just as easily,” I confess.
“Oh, I doubt that,” she says with a wide smile before opening the passenger door and climbing out.
Is she fucking flirting with me? Am I missing the cues or just being too hopeful right now? Forward women aren’t a new thing for me, but that brazen behavior coming from Faith isn’t something I ever expected.
I’m mostly under control, wondering just how far our conversation will take us by the time I meet her in front of the SUV. I don’t hesitate to drop my palm to her lower back as we walk inside. She doesn’t shove me away or tense up at my touch, and I’m counting that as a win.
As we’re seated, I’m arguing internally on how the night should go. I want to talk and get to know her. Those may have not been my intentions the first or the second time I saw her, but I was hoping to face tonight with the most honorable intentions I could manage.
Her sexy-as-hell dress crushed some of that honor, and the way she nibbles on her lip as she looks over the menu threatens to kill what is remaining.
“Have you eaten here before?” she asks, her pretty eyes barely visible over the top of her menu.
“Once.”
“Did the date end well?”
I grin at her attempt to fish for details about her suspicions of me bringing her to a restaurant I’ve brought other dates to.
“Cerberus rented out the event room in the back last year for something,” I explain.
“For something? You don’t remember what it was?”
I shake my head. “We have a lot of gatherings and celebrations. They start to run together after a while. Mostly we hold them at the clubhouse, but for some reason that day was different.”
“Sylvie told me about an event at the clubhouse.”
My brows draw together. “Other than a celebration for April and Apollo after their son was born, we haven’t had anything recently. I don’t remember seeing her then.”
She lowers her menu, a shy smile I’ve never seen from her tugging up the corners of her delectable mouth. I’m entranced at the sight of her.