Saved by the Outlaw(191)

“Well,” she rolls her hand in the air, asking for more. “What do you mean, ‘dropping hints’? Are we talking Post-It notes on your lunchbox, or what?”

I roll my eyes. “They’re hints, Nat, it isn’t like he’s spelling out what he wants to do for my birthday weekend.” And it is indeed that time of the year again. The past few weeks had been peppered with, well, cute little dates. I didn’t think this would be something I could expect from a criminal, but I have to admit, he’s good at making me forget what he does.

“Well, it was the French restaurant one night,” Natalie lists off, “and then he made you take that weekend off to go see some of the clubs uptown. So after all that, you think he’s planning something special? What the hell does ‘special’ mean to him?”

“I don’t know, but he seems to mention my birthday every now and then, so I can only guess he’s got something in mind,” I muse.

“Let’s see,” Natalie gets a playful look on her face, “are there any sports seasons happening? Maybe he’ll take you to a game.”

I wrinkle my nose, and Natalie laughs, obviously joking.

“Maybe out on a boat somewhere? Nice romantic tour over moonlit waters…!”

“Wish someone would take me out someplace nice like that,” Ashton calls across the room as she passes by with a tray full of glassware to clean for the night.

“And what’s your idea of a ‘fancy’ place, huh? You’d just want to go to Midtown as an excuse to go to the Olive Garden there,” Natalie shoots back teasingly. Ashton scoffs and tosses her hair indignantly.

“Well they do have the best one.”

After Ashton passes into the kitchen, Natalie rolls her eyes and lowers her voice to tell me, “I’m taking her to New Jersey next month.”

I raise my eyebrows and tilt my head to the side, a grin spreading across my face. “Oooh, Atlantic City? That’s romantic.”

“No, asshole,” she’s quick to rebut, pawing at me in annoyance, but her face goes the slightest shade of red as she adds, “My family’s down there, I want my parents to meet her.”

I feel my face spreading into a wide grin, and Natalie suddenly becomes very interested in cleaning the bar and avoiding my gaze, even if there is a suppressed smile tugging at her face. There’s a beat of silence before I break in.

“That’s adorable, Nat.”

“Shut up, boss.”

As I open my mouth to antagonize my employee a little more, the doors open, and I see Ivan striding in with a smile on his face. The moment Natalie recognizes him, she smirks and ducks off to busy herself with something away from the two of us.

“Ivan,” I start, stepping towards him with a smile, “you didn’t mention you’d be dropping by today—”

I’m cut off as Ivan steps up to me silently, takes my hand in his, and slips a single rose into it, closing my grasp around it as he looks down at me with a gaze full of what I soon realize is quiet excitement.

He still looks stony, but there’s a boyish energy under there I’ve come to recognize.

“Turn around,” he says, and blinking, I obey.

“Ivan, is this part of some-”

“Shush, it’s a surprise,” he cuts me off, and the next thing I know, he’s bringing the same strip of black blindfold from our New Year’s night together up and over my eyes, blindfolding me right there in the club. It’s not even my birthday yet!





14





Katy





A few minutes later, I’m sitting in the passenger’s seat of Ivan’s car and listening to the rumble of the engine as we go God-knows-where. Trying to lead me by the hand out of the club had worn out Ivan’s patience pretty fast, so I’d ended up being carried out in his arms all the way to the car.

And he still won’t tell me where we’re going.

“Now, now, Katy,” he chides after I ask him for what feels like the tenth time, “what good is the blindfold if you know?”

“Fine, fine,” I pout, crossing my arms, “but seriously, Ivan, I’m not dressed for anywhere fancy, okay?” And I’m not exaggerating. I’m wearing tight-fitting jeans, a red spaghetti-strap top with black lace, and a black knitted cardigan since all I was expecting out of tonight was a routine evening at the club.

After what feels like an hour drive, we pull up someplace where the sounds of traffic tell me we’re well into the city.

“Ivan,” I start as he helps me out of the car before sweeping me off my feet again, “seriously, this is really sweet and romantic but—”