Life After Taylah(6)

“You weigh no more than a child, you’re a girl, and you’re a delicate one at that. If you managed to take someone my size down, then I don’t deserve my manhood.”

I laugh. I can’t help it. “I’ll make it my challenge to destroy your manhood.”

He grins at me.

“Kelly gave me your street, but what’s your house number?”

I rattle it off and he nods, turning in the direction of my apartment.

“So, tell me, Dancer, what do you do aside from dance?”

“I work at the local library. It’s only part-time, but I enjoy it.”

“A dancer in a library. You should write a book.”

I roll my eyes. “Don’t judge.”

“No judgment here, honey.”

Honey. I bite my lip. I wish Jacob would speak to me so . . . affectionately.

“What about you?” I ask, but I notice my voice has softened.

“I ride. It’s what I do. It’s my job; it’s my life.”

“You do nothing else?”

He shakes his head. “At this point, no.”

“And do you have a girlfriend?”

He gives me a sideways glance and a cheeky grin. “Is Dancer asking if I’m available?”

I shake my head furiously, putting my hands up. “No, I’m . . . I mean . . . I’m taken, anyway. I was just making conversation.”

He raises his brows, but answers with, “I’m married.”

Of course he’s married.

“You’re so young,” I say. “How long have you been married for?”

“Six years.”

“That’s nice,” I say, wondering what his wife looks like. She’s probably stunning.

“What about you? Married or just taken?”

I huff. “Not married, but I’m sure it’s close.”

“You don’t sound too happy about that?”

I sigh and stare out the window, watching the trees flick past as we drive. It’s a gorgeous night out. I notice the stars shimmering in the sky. I think about how to explain my relationship with Jacob, without it sounding like it’s something from the early 1800s.

“Jacob is kind. He’s close to my father, and he’s a good man . . .”

Nate cuts me off. “You sound like you’re reading a resume.”

I sigh. “He’s always been what’s best for me; I care about him. He’s going to take my part of my father’s business and he’s got a good life set up for us.”

I dare to look at Nate, but his eyes are focused on the road. He’s got a puzzled expression on his face.

“Is he best for you . . . or your dad?”

“It’s not like that,” I say. “I care about him.”

“Okay, I believe you.”

“What about you?” I say, changing the subject.

“What about me?”

“Tell me about your wife.”

His face seems to harden. “She’s my wife; there’s not a lot to tell. We have a daughter, Macy, who’s three.”

I smile. “How sweet.”

He smiles too. “Not when she’s throwing herself on the ground in a rage.”

I laugh. “Girls, hey?”

He chuckles. “Yeah, I reckon. This is you.”

I look out of the windscreen to see we have pulled up at my apartment. I turn to Nate. “Thanks for the lift.”

“Even though I had to throw you in against your will?”

I flush. “I’m a little headstrong sometimes.”

“You don’t say?”

I stare at the time and see it’s about eight p.m. It seems so much later than that.

“Thank you, though, really,” I whisper, looking up at him. “I wasn’t in the right frame of mind to walk home.”

“Your brother give you grief, eh?” he asks, training those green eyes onto mine.

“Yeah.”

He nods. “I’m sure he’ll come around.”

I take the handle, hesitate, and then turn back to him. “Do you want a drink or something?”

He stares at me for a long moment. “I can’t. I gotta get home.”

“Right,” I say, wanting to slap myself. What kind of girl asks a married man inside for a drink? Jesus. “Well, thank you.”

I get out of the car and am about to shut the door when he calls out, “Hey Dancer?”

I look back at him.

“You like watching motocross?”

I nod. “I haven’t seen it in person, but . . . yeah, I think I would.”

He shoves open his console and pulls out a ticket, handing it to me. “I ride tomorrow. If you’re not busy, come to the show.”

I stare at the ticket and then back up at him. “Thank you, I’ll try.”

He nods and then winks at me.