“You gonna tell me how you came to be in possession of over a hundred grand?” I asked, pulling out onto the road.
“I robbed a stagecoach,” Preppy joked.
“Haha.”
Preppy sighed and pulled out a folded check from his pocket. “Either that or my dead mother’s husband decided to make amends for her bullshit by giving me over two hundred and fifty thousand dollars.” This time there was no joke to follow. No laughter. He smoothed the check out on the dashboard.
“Wow. How do you feel about that?” I asked.
“I’m not sure just yet,” he said, staring at the check. “Figure if it can help you start your business then that’s how I’ll think of it. I mean, I sure as shit ain’t gonna give it back out of some misplaced moral obligation. I’ve never exactly had a problem taking blood money. But at the moment, I’m still pretty fucked up, so there’s that. And for now?” He sighed, folded the check and shoved it back into his pocket. “That’s perfectly fine with me.”
“Let’s get you home,” I said pulling out onto the road.
Preppy looked out the window at the sky. “Yeah, Doc. Take me home.”
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Dre
Preppy had insisted on taking me out on a date because, as he put it, “We’re married with a kid, but we’ve never really been on a date.”
I pointed out that he’d taken me to lunch once at Billy’s crab place (pre Narnia) but he simply stated that since I was still unsure of whether or not he was going to kill me at the time, it didn’t really count.
That’s how we found ourselves sitting on the back deck of Red’s Seafood and Steaks, a place the locals loved but usually didn’t frequent because it was usually tipping over with seasonal tourists. However, we’d been shown to our table the second we arrived, and although it was busy, it wasn’t overly crowded.
And it smelled like HEAVEN. Lightly fried seafood, garlic, and fresh baked bread. I inhaled deeply and groaned. My stomach growled.
“Keep doing that and we’re not gonna make it through dinner,” Preppy said, gazing at me with a heated expression in his eyes. “And I told you I was taking you on a real date and on a real date they usually have a meal.”
“Oh yeah? Where did you learn that?” I asked.
“Google,” Preppy answered, flashing me a smile that made my nipples stand at attention. Seriously, the man was insanely good looking and right there at dinner I officially decided something.
There was no one on the planet sexier than Samuel Clearwater.
NO ONE.
He’d been working out with King like crazy. At first it was just to get his body back in working order after the ordeal with Chop, and then it kind of became a routine he enjoyed. And even though he was beyond attractive before, he was now a woman’s walking wet dream. All those new muscles were now teasing me from under his white button-down across the table.
I was embarrassingly wet as I appraised him.
Apparently he was doing the same. “Wow,” he said. “If I didn’t know you and you walked by me I’d take a mental picture for my spank bank. Fuck that, I’m gonna do it anyway.”
I felt the blush rising in my cheeks. “I think you look pretty great yourself.”
“It should be illegal to want to fuck you so bad,” Preppy murmured, reaching over and brushing the pad of his thumb over my bottom lip. I leaned into his touch.
I gave his thumb a kiss. “And what if it were illegal?” I teased.
“It wouldn’t matter.” He lowered his voice. “‘Cause baby, I was born to break the law.”
“Do you need a few more minutes?” The bubbly waitress asked, her blonde ponytail bobbing as she spoke. She’d interrupted us at the very minute I was going to convince Preppy that a proper date didn’t necessarily consist of a meal, but can also consist of just animalistic fucking in the location of his choosing.
I was still staring down at my menu but I hadn’t read a word. Preppy had been lazily rubbing the tip of his boot on my ankle under the table. He looked completely unaffected while I hadn’t gotten through the appetizer list.
Preppy lowered his menu and smiled at me. “I think we need a few more minutes.”
“Preppy?” the waitress asked excitedly, pointing her pen at him. “I can’t believe it’s you. It’s been such a long time.” She jutted out a hip and pushed out her ample chest. “How you been, darlin’?”
“Been great. Have you met my wife?” Preppy asked, never taking his eyes off mine.
“You’re married?” she asked, still smiling, her lips barely moving as if it pained her to keep that expression plastered on her face.
“Sure as shit am. This is the missus, Dre. Dre, this is...” Preppy leaned in to read her nametag. The girl huffed in annoyance. “Tara.”
“It’s TAR-RUH,” she corrected.
“Gesundheit,” Preppy said. “Can we get two beers while my wife here gives the menu another read through?” Without waiting for a reply he added, “Thanks.”
TAH-RUH went to get our drinks and Preppy continued to rub my ankle. “I think I’ll get the fried catfish,” he said, staring down at his menu.
“Can I ask you something? That girl. Is she someone you...” I let my question trail off.
“Fucked?” Preppy said, loud enough so that the elderly people at the table next to us spun around to see who was flinging around the offending word. I held in a chuckle. “Yeah, probably,” he said casually. “Why, Doc? You jealous?” he teased.
I shook my head. “No,” I answered, because it was true. Preppy didn’t give me a reason to be jealous. His attentions were always on me and I’m not one of those people who could be upset by the past. At least not anymore. “Curious was more like it.” I set my unread menu down on the table I leaned forward. “And why probably?”
“Probably is because chances are pretty high that if she knows me and we’ve hung out that I’ve fucked her. However, I don’t remember her. I don’t remember any of them.” His eyes met mine. “But you?” He reached across the table and laced his hand with mine. “Not only do I remember every single amazing second with you.” He sucked in his bottom lip, darting the tip of his tongue out when he released it, staring at me like he was hungry, but not for food.
For me.
“I can still taste you.”
My lips parted and I felt my cheeks grow warm. I was afraid if I stood up off the plastic chair that I’d leave a puddle in my wake. My thighs trembled.
“Have y’all decided yet?” the waitress asked, pulling out a pen and pad from her apron. I still hadn’t looked at the menu.
Preppy chuckled, sensing my dilemma. “We’ll have two blue crab plates.”
“Good choice,” she said, taking down our orders and leaving the table.