Page 8 of Operation Annulment (Silent Phoenix MC)

seven

Nate

T his woman is going to be the death of me.

Nothing about tonight has gone as planned. The plan was to keep it casual and get to know her. But one look at her in that fucking dress, and suddenly I’m confessing things about my marriage that I’ve never told anybody.

When she began peppering me with questions about my parents, I naturally assumed she was unhinged. The pretty ones almost always are.

Finding out she’s a therapist should have come as a relief. Instead, it left me with a hard-on that even Freud himself would side-eye.

“What about you? Wait, no. Let me guess.” She taps a finger against her mouth with a mischievous smile, and my slacks grow even tighter.

What are you doing to me, Katy girl?

“You work as a tattoo artist. You loved art as a boy, but your father wanted you to follow in his footsteps and take over the vineyard. You turned to tattooing to rebel while still following your dream. ”

Damn. If the whole counseling thing doesn’t pan out, she’ll make a killing writing fiction.

“So close,” I respond with a mock wince right as she takes a drink. “I have conflict with my father because I’m secretly in love with my mother.”

She promptly chokes on the water. “You did that on purpose,” she rasps between coughs. “Also, you might consider seeing one of my colleagues.”

This is what was missing from my marriage.

The mundane, nothing particular conversations that show you who a person really is underneath the surface.

Jess and I had the physical aspect down but never could perfect the emotional side of things.

By the time I realized things weren’t what they seemed, it was too late.

This time, I’m looking for a partner—someone in my corner, for better or worse.

What about Kate, though?

While she playfully diagnoses me with a variety of mental illnesses, I study her, trying to gauge whether she sees me as a casual fling or something more.

She tucks her lower lip between her teeth and smiles, and I wonder if it’s too soon to ask for another date.

My phone buzzes against my thigh, and I fight back a groan, wishing I could let it go to voicemail. Unfortunately, I’m on call tonight, so I’ve stuck with water even when the conversation demanded something stronger.

“I’ve got to take this,” I tell her before answering.

“Dr. Davis, this is Rachel at the transfer center. We’ve got a trauma case coming in.”

“Got it. I’ll be there shortly.” I love my job—just not tonight. Tonight, I want to be someone who stays up late and gets to know Kate.

Kate’s face falls when I return the phone to my pocket and flag down our server for the check. “Is everything okay?”

“Yeah, I’m on—” I stop myself. To her, I’m Nate Davis, a struggling tattoo artist and aspiring vintner.

When I’ve discussed my career in the past, it changed their perception of me.

Suddenly, all they could see were dollar signs instead of a person.

“I’ve got to go. Family emergency. Can I call you tomorrow? ”

She pulls her wallet from her purse and fumbles for her debit card, refusing to make eye contact with me. “Sure. Sounds good.”

I place my hand on her arm, stopping her. “Hey, put that away, and let me buy you dinner.”

Her nostrils flare, and she mashes her lips together before asking, “Was that your ex-wife?”

I hand over my credit card and wait until he leaves before turning back to her. “No, it wasn’t. It’s work stuff.”

Kate’s cat-like green eyes narrow to slits. “You just said it was a family emergency. Now it’s work?”

I mentally kick myself. “It’s our family business. The vineyard? Surely, you didn’t already forget.”

“Thanks for dinner, Nate,” she says, getting up. “It was nice meeting you.”

I hastily scrawl my signature and a thirty percent tip before running after her.

“Babe, wait up. Let me explain.” She doesn’t slow down, and I’m forced to grab her arm. “Wait, please.”

“I don’t know what this is, but I’m not in the habit of going out with men who can’t even be honest about why they’re cutting a date short,” she hisses before yanking free of my grip. “If you’re going to meet your ex, that’s fine. But don’t lie?—”

I grasp her cheeks in my palms and silence her argument by slanting my mouth over hers. A better man would have waited until she finished, but she didn’t seem close to a stopping point.

A soft moan drifts past her full, pouty lips as they part for my tongue. Her hands move to the lapels of my shirt, frantically tugging me closer.

“Do you think if I was going to meet my ex, I’d do this?” I murmur, nipping her bottom lip with my teeth .

She shivers and presses her fingers to her swollen lips before admitting, “I’m scared, Nate. I don’t want to get hurt.”

I tuck her head beneath my chin and stroke the goosebumps on her arms. “I won’t hurt you.”

I only hope it’s a promise I can keep.