“How tall are you?” I ask him, feeling amused.
“Six three. Why?”
“Just asking,” I say, laying my head on his shoulder. He wraps his arm around me and I smile and close my eyes. “This is the weirdest first date in the history of first dates.”
“Normal is boring,” he says, and I can hear the smile in his voice.
“They said I don’t have to stay overnight; I can go home after they do a checkup.”
“We’ll have to go to the restaurant and get my bike, then go and get your car from the bar,” he says. We took a taxi from the restaurant, because Ardan didn’t want me on the bike, just in case. “And then I’ll follow you home.” He pauses. “Or should I just take you home and we can get your car tomorrow?”
“I’m fine to drive,” I say, yawning. “I could go for some coffee, though.”
“I’ll get you some,” he says gently. “If you’re tired, you can have a nap until the nurse comes to check on you, if you like.”
“You’re comfortable,” I say, burying my face in his neck. “And you smell good.”
“Yeah, you should probably stop that,” he says in a husky tone, shifting in his spot. “I don’t think the nurse is going to appreciate walking in and seeing my hard-on straining against my jeans.”
Lifting my head, I look at him. “You’re probably right.” I take a deep breath and ask him, “What’s Ireland like?”
“Beautiful,” he says, turning animated. “You’d love it. The people, the views. The history. It’s all there to explore.”
“Hmmm,” I murmur. “Sounds perfect. I’ve always wanted to travel the world, but I’ve never even left the country.”
“Really?” He sounds surprised. “You should do it—see what’s out there, you know?”
“Yeah,” I say, moving even closer to him.
“Sleep.”
I sleep.
FIVE
“I DON’T like you staying here,” Ardan announces, looking around my motel room. “Especially not alone.”
I put my bag down on the couch, then turn to him and cross my arms. “Don’t care what you like. I’m staying here until I sort myself out. It’s really not a big deal.”
He goes and fiddles with the locks, scowling and muttering something about toddlers being able to break through them.
“No one is going to break in; it’s fine. Now I need to shower and go to sleep. And you need to go home.”
He straightens and turns, staring me down. “Fine. I’ll be here Friday evening to pick you up.” He closes the space between us and pushes one of my errant curls behind my ear. “You have my number. Anything happens, you call me. I’ll be here faster than the police ever will.” He grins. “And I’m scarier than them too.”
I grin at that.
“Nothing will happen,” I say, feeling a little flustered at his close proximity. “But I’ll call you if anything comes up.”
In the hospital bed, I’d been vulnerable and I let him in. But now, back in reality, I realize how stupid I was. I barely know this guy. He is so nice, though. So sweet. No one has ever fussed over me like that, and he’s seen me only twice.
Why is he like this?
A bad boy with a good heart.
I’m so fucked.
“Good,” he says, leaning forward and kissing me softly on the lips—barely a touch, but I feel it.
I feel it more than I’ve ever felt a kiss in my life.
I run my index finger along my bottom lip.
What the fuck was that?
I don’t know. But I want it again.
Ardan tilts his head and smiles, his dark eyes almost black. “And finally you feel it too.”
Another kiss, this time on the forehead, and he walks to my door. “Lock it, Valentina.”
I follow him and lock it the second he leaves. I hear a faint “Good girl,” before the sound of his steps becomes distant.
I turn around and look around the motel room, suddenly feeling . . . I don’t know, almost lost. I shake my head and walk to the bathroom. I need a shower and bed, and then I need to mentally distance myself from Ardan before Friday comes around.
How hard could it be?
“What are you doing?” I ask him as I step into the kitchen. He turns and grins. “You’re home early.” I put my bag down on the table and wrap my arms around him. “Something smells good.” I lift my head. “What’s the occasion? You never cook.”
He kisses the top of my head. “I was going to surprise you with a candlelit dinner. Why did you have to finish early on today of all days?”
I look toward the dining table, seeing four white candles sitting there in the center. “That’s so sweet, Darren.”
He puts the ladle down and grips my cheeks in his palms. “I love you so much. Just wanted to try to do something nice for you to show you I appreciate you.”
He kisses me, and I smile against his lips.
I wake up suddenly, panting and glancing around the motel room.
Fuck.
Something I’ve realized is that it isn’t always the bad memories that get you. Sometimes the good memories can do more damage, cause more pain, because they make you question yourself, and make you wonder where it all went wrong. When was the moment that it went bad? Can I pinpoint it?
I rub my eyes and then cover my face with my hands.