Blind Date(36)

There's a long pause before he asks, "You ever want any kids?"

"Yeah," I answer him. "We tried, but he passed before we could ever make too much of an effort. Did you?"

He shakes his head.

Right.

It's clear this conversation has come to an end for now. He's obviously not wanting to talk about it, so I decide to change the subject and put him out of his misery.

"How long have you been a detective?"

That's always a safe subject. Talking about someone's work.

"Seven years, but I was a cop for three years before that."

"Do you like it?" I ask, rubbing my hands around the mug, warming them up.

He nods. "It's demanding, but I like the challenge it presents."

"I can only imagine. I don't know how you do it. The kind of mind you must have, to be able to go through all those clues and figure out a crime, it's pretty impressive."

"Yeah, it keeps me busy."

I can imagine. I nod and give him a small smile. "I bet."

"What about you? Why did you decide to become a midwife?"

I meet his eyes. Of course he knows what I'm studying, I forgot he did a background check on me. "I love kids. I love babies. I just love the idea of helping bring life into the world. I thought about studying to be an OB, but decided a midwife was what I wanted to do."

Ace stares at me, and doesn't say anything, he just studies me.

"You're an incredibly intense man, has anyone ever told you that?"

He grunts. "Yeah. Often."

"I think if you let that guard down a little, there might just be a lot of good beneath the surface."

He keeps studying me, his lip twitches slightly, and it's like he can't make sense of something, or maybe he's trying to figure something out.

"You like that dick you're seeing?"

I blink.

Random change of subject.

"Jacob?"

He nods.

"Yeah," I say. "I mean, we're just casually dating and seeing if there is a future to proceed onto. He's a nice guy."

Ace snorts. "He's a wimp."

I hold back my grunt, and maybe a little giggle.

"He's not a wimp. He's really kind."

"And a wimp."

"You're being a little nasty again," I point out, raising my brows.

He grunts. "How is being honest considered being nasty?"

I contemplate this. "I don't think it's so much that you're trying to be nasty, but the way you word things can come across as  …  cold."

He raises a brow.

"It's true," I point out. "You don't know Jacob. So it's a little far-fetched for you to call him a wimp  …  don't you think?"

He shakes his head. "No, I don't think that. I call it like it see it, with everyone I meet. I deal with people all the time, and I know the weak ones, the ones who go running when shit gets hard. That man couldn't defend you if he tried. He's like all those other men out there, who sit back and do nothing when their women need them."


      ///
       
         
       
        

"What about me?" I say, my voice going a little softer. "Call it like you see it … "

He studies me a moment, and I think he's not going to answer, but in a throaty voice he says, "You use your sarcasm and quick wit to avoid your feelings. You're scared, maybe of moving on, maybe of living, maybe of getting hurt. I'm not sure. You're softer than you come across, but you're also incredibly strong. Those who have lived through what you have are, by far, some of the strongest people you'll ever meet. You don't give yourself enough credit for that, and you should."

My heart flutters, and for a moment I just stare at him, holding those intense eyes.

God.

He's doing strange things to my heart, he's cracking open a wall I've built up so high. I look away quickly.

"Time for sleep," Ace says, his voice low, but kind. "You look exhausted."

"I don't  …  I don't … " I glance down the hall at my room.

I don't know if I have it in me to sleep in there. What if someone comes through the window while Ace is sleeping out here  …  or  …

"Ace?"

He glances at me, midway through reaching for a pillow. "Yeah?"

"Can we go and sleep at your place?"

He studies me, and for a second he looks horrified at the thought. Like it terrifies him to no end. I'm already opening my mouth to tell him not to worry when he throws out a gruff, "Yeah."

Thank God.

Oh. Thank. God.





FOURTEEN


I wake up, my back on what is probably the comfiest couch I've ever slept on. I blink my eyes open, and it takes a moment to remember where I am. Ace's apartment. I swing my eyes around the room, getting the blurriness from them, and take in the space. Sleek, modern, and clean. Ace has good taste. Everything is either black, gray, or red. His furniture is masculine.