Enough(71)

We parked in front of an Italian place, Rizzo’s. I stored my helmet with Dare’s before we walked inside. Dare caught my hand in his and gave me a lopsided smile. “I might be doing this backward, but we should hit all the stops, don’t you think?”

I frowned at him, totally confused.

“Taking you on a date, now?” He snorted.

“Well at least you know I’m a sure thing,” I teased.

The host sat us in a booth. I scooted in, expecting Dare to sit across from me, but he pushed me over and sat next to me, so close our thighs touched.

“What’s good? Have you been here?” I opened my menu looking at all the possibilities.

“My first time. Bear says it’s good.”

I decided on chicken parmesan and closed my menu, while Dare never opened his. A young college-aged girl hurried to our table. “Hi, would you like to order or drinks first?” She lingered on Dare, but then he was that sexy—the kind of sexy to get strangers staring.

“I’d like chicken parmesan with salad and bread, sweet tea.” I rattled off my order, already anticipating the cheesy chicken recipe.

The server’s blond ponytail bobbed when she nodded before turning back to Dare.

“Make it two, and add a Triple Crown on the rocks.” He handed her the menus.

I frowned at him. “I didn’t know you liked chicken parm.”

“Red, I like you, now tell me, why haven’t you pestered me to take you out before now?”

I shrugged. “I’m easy.”

His hand squeezed my thigh but he didn’t smile. “Nope, not it.”

“Fine. I don’t think about asking, for anything.” I paused. “I guess I’m not used to asking for things. I always go with the flow.”

“That’s not true either.” His wicked grin heated me up, especially between my thighs. “You aren’t shy about asking, or telling for that matter, when we’re in bed.”

I flushed hot and stared across the restaurant, more a bistro style I think. The butcher paper tablecloths and wire-rimmed chairs were cute. The booths were deep burgundy with high backs, which gave us privacy, I guess, or the illusion of privacy. It wasn’t a large place, but it felt homey and I wondered if the Rizzo family ran the restaurant.

“I’m sorry,” I squeaked, not sure what I was supposed to say.

“Red.” Dare spoke with a sharp impatience. I glanced over. “I’m sayin’ speak up all the time, not just when we’re in bed. Don’t wait for me to think of it.”

“Why did you?” I asked, regretting the words as quickly as I said them.

“Because I hurt your feelings today.”

I bit my lip and looked away. Everything did play over my face, so much for hiding what I thought.

“You did good work, I’m just not into sales and shit—people should come because they want the art.”

“Yeah?” I felt better already. “You know I wouldn’t go around you, the computer—”

“Just more of my pissy mood. I figured out I’d hurt you when I was back there inking that chick’s tit and replaying our conversation.”

“What?” I laughed.

“Yeah.” He gave me the strangest look. “And then I got it—while I don’t give a shit about the sale, that’s not to say your promotion piece was shit. You have a good eye.”

The satisfaction from earlier quadrupled with Dare’s approval. “Thanks.”

“Oh, speaking of art, tomorrow I’m doing your dragon.” His hand cupped between my legs. “No way I can ink you again with anyone in the shop, because I’m going to need to fuck you before we’re done.” The rough way he said it turned me on.

“Really?”

“Yeah, the first time was a close thing, but now that we’re together, that’s a requirement.”

The server carried a huge tray with a stand. She set it all down, bringing our salad with the chicken, and she’d clearly heard what Dare said, but I didn’t really care. He didn’t seem pissed either. She was bright red as she served the salad and the dinners.

He stared down at his plate with a frown, and I would swear he’d never even seen chicken parmesan before, let alone eaten it. So why did he order it? All the same, he dug into it like he hadn’t eaten in days. By the time we finished dinner, he’d worked me up until I only had one train of thought, getting him home to bed. Once the server handed him the bill, we were more than ready to go. I was ready to find a dark corner and jump him, to be honest. He glanced at the bill, about forty dollars, and dropped sixty—more than a generous tip. We left the restaurant in a hurry for my place.