"He and Joanna are great people," I admitted, although I didn't tell Patrick just how great. "We've become very good friends as well as them working for me. I was lucky that Marcus forwarded me their resumes, and that they even applied. Maybe next time you can meet them both."
"I'd like that very much," he said, taking the keys out of the ignition and holding them out for me. I reached for them, but when our hands touched, the reach became a lean, and the lean became a slow, soft kiss. His left hand came up to trace my jawline, and I responded by feeling the swell of his bicep under his Spartans shirt.
When his tongue traced my lips I responded, both of us tasting the other. I had to admit it wasn't the sexiest taste I'd ever had on a kiss, he did taste like stadium hotdogs, but then again, I'd had a lot of jalape?o peppers on my nachos, so I'm sure I wasn't exactly minty fresh either. We were both so wrapped up in conversation that neither of us thought to break out a tic-tac. Still, our kiss was great, and I could tell when we parted that he was just as happy with it as I was. "Top three, for sure."
"Top three what?" I asked with a small smile, unbuckling my seatbelt.
"Top three kisses I've had," he said with a slightly cocky grin. I could tell he was joking, it wasn't the same sort of cockiness he had before our date, more like a playful cockiness. "But definitely best first kiss."
"Hmmm, well, I won't give you a rank," I replied with a cocky grin of my own. "I mean, I'm not the sort of girl to kiss and tell, after all."
"But maybe it was good enough to get me another date? Say, this Thursday? I'd ask for Friday, but there's a community event I'm slated for, and Saturday is the City Council meeting that's open to the public. And I don't want to wait a week before seeing you again."
I smiled and nodded. "Thursday is good. But let me make the plans, okay?"
"Okay."
Patrick got out of the SUV and came around to open my door, escorting me to the front door of Mount Zion. There, we paused and kissed again, this time even better than the first. While I had told him the truth, I don't rank kissers, he was very good. His hands rested lightly on my waist, and he never tried to move them lower or pull me tighter, even though I could tell he wanted to. It was both passion filled and gentlemanly, the right blend that warmed my belly and sent shivers through me. After Scott Pressman, it’s exactly what I needed. When we parted, he had a slightly starstruck look on his face, and I was smiling the entire time I made my way inside and then to my room.
Chapter 9
Patrick
Driving back to my apartment, I barely avoided driving through red lights twice I was so distracted. I had told Tabby she was a top three kiss, but that was a vast underestimation. The way her lips felt on mine, the feel of her waist in my hands, everything about her was the sexiest, most beautiful I'd ever felt. Still, I knew I had to be careful, she'd been hurt, and I didn't want to screw it up by going too fast.
Reaching the outer limits of The Playground, I found my apartment and parked. I still lived in the same dump I'd been in months ago when I was just Patrick McCaffery the bar tender, and didn't really see the need to move just yet. The local gangs respected me, more or less, and none of them had tried to start shit because I was now in politics instead of slinging beers.
Opening my door, I stepped in and closed the door quickly before someone looked inside. I had spent a little bit of my pay so far to put on another lock to my door, not that it would really stop someone who wanted to break in. I'm pretty sure my front door could be kicked down by a motivated seven year old if desired. Still, The Playground seemed to be happy that one of their own had gotten out of the hood while not forgetting where I came from, and my building hadn't had a break-in the entire two months I'd been in office.
I had another reason to close my door quickly however, and that was what was hanging on my living room wall. I'd have put my outfit away somewhere different, but to be honest my apartment was seriously lacking in hiding places. Also, I'd just laundered the thing, and had to hang it up to dry, the dryers downstairs were all taken up when I'd washed it. Getting blood out of the fabric is kind of important, after all.
Looking over my uniform, I wondered which side of me was more important, or perhaps which was the real me. Was I the newbie politician, who seemed to have the gift for gab that attracted the voters, while at the same time was a little bit cocky, unflappable under pressure from the vested interests of the city?
Was I the masked vigilante who was starting to clean up Filmore Heights? I'd chosen Filmore simply because it wasn't the same neighborhood I lived, but was still nearby and needed help. If I'd gone into action in The Playground I was worried I'd get recognized. Also, I had to admit to myself that busting the heads of the 88's had been thrilling.