He accepted then declared, “I drive. You ride. Not a rule, that’s a law. Get me?”
“What if you’ve had a freak accident and you’ve broken your arm and ankle?” I asked for specifics.
“If that shit happens, I hope to God you’re smart enough to pick up a phone and call an ambulance rather than draggin’ my ass to my car, which would be agony, shoving it in, which would be more agony, and taking me to the hospital.”
Another valid point.
Again I conceded through silence.
Knight’s body started shaking and his voice was too when he asked, “Are we done with this fuckin’ stupid conversation?”
“I guess,” I muttered, still wanting to drive his car.
I got another light squeeze and he dipped his smiling face in mine. “Whenever you want, baby, you can take my ride out. Just say the word. I’ll arrange it. I’m just not gonna be in it with you.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because I’m a man,” he answered.
“So?”
“I’ll clarify,” he offered. “I’m a man who does not let my woman or any woman drive when my ass is in the car.”
“That teeters over the edge of macho crazy, Knight,” I informed him.
“Yeah,” he was completely not offended, “Head’s up, babe, get used to that.”
It was then it occurred to me he was pointing out the obvious.
So I conceded not with silence but instead by sharing, “Now, I’m even more hungry.”
I got more of his hard body shaking against mine, I liked it and he reiterated, “Then jacket, babe.”
“Right,” I whispered, pulled away and moved into his apartment to get my jacket and purse.
I met him where he was waiting for me at the top of the three steps in front of the mouth of the hall.
Then he took my hand.
Then he took me to his car.
Then he drove like the ex-speed-racer he was and took me to dinner.
* * * * *
I was laying in bed, feeling my new soft sheets, thinking Knight’s satin ones were probably way softer, staring at my ceiling and thinking that Knight Sebring had claimed me, no doubt about it, but he had yet to kiss me.
Dinner wasn’t good, it was great. He took me to Wynkoop’s and suddenly, somehow, after the day, the nap, me coming to my understanding and our lighthearted, safe and amusing bickering, I was at ease. Knight always seemed at ease even when he was pissed or annoyed. He was just Knight. And I settled into that.
He told me about his race-freak Dad. He told me about his race-widow Mom. He told me they both were still alive and lived in Hawaii. He told me I was right, Slade stayed popular because he closed it down for a month every year after he put out bids to designers to offer their visions of a shit-hot new look, he picked one and went with it. He told me his business that day had to do with a side business that also vaguely linked with the club (though he didn’t fully explain). He told me Nick had always been a pain in the ass fuck up but he’d also, obviously, always been a brother. So Knight put up with it and covered a lot so his parents wouldn’t take any hits from Nick’s asshole behavior and fuck ups but that didn’t make him any less done with it.
I told him about Vivica and Sandrine. I shared detailed specifics of my schedule. I hesitantly and shyly told him about my goal of opening my spa which he watched me weirdly intently the whole time I talked about it rather than just with his usual deep interest. I told him next up in the buying schedule was not a sweet ride but an excellent quality table where I could do my facials. And I shared that the Wynkoop and its beer were one of my top five favorites in Denver on both the restaurant and beer counts.
This was easy conversation with a number of smiles, a few deep chuckles (Knight), a few soft giggles (me). Since we sat on the same side of the booth, more than once, when my sweater drooped down to expose my shoulder, Knight’s finger came up to trial my skin lightly. It was at these times I congratulated myself for my heretofore unknown clairvoyance that wearing that sweater was the very right idea. I did this after he quit touching me and before I pulled the sweater back up. And I pulled it back up because I knew it would droop down again, catching Knight’s attention (because he never missed it, not once) and I’d get his touch back.
It was a game, we both knew it but it was debatable which one of us liked it better.
Then he’d driven me back to his place, parked beside my Corolla that was in his second parking spot and informed me the remote to operate the gate to his garage was on my visor. Then he handed me my keys that he collected from Spinolli while I was sleeping.
Then one of his hands cupped my jaw, his face dipped close and I stopped breathing because I thought he was going to kiss me and I really, really wanted him to.