“You promised lunch. Just lunch.” Her voice was soft as velvet with an undertone of steel.
“I did. I didn’t promise I wouldn’t react to your touch.”
“Then I won’t touch you.”
“My loss.” He stepped back a fraction, ignoring the curious glances of those nearest them.
Her brows drew together as she peered up at him. She opened her mouth to say something when the prerecorded voice came over the sound system, announcing the next stop.
“This is us.” He gave in to temptation and laid his hand at the indention of her waist and guided her forward.
She inched away. “I’m pretty sure I can find my way out of the bus, but thanks.”
“Just trying to be courteous.” And wasn’t that a lie? He wanted to touch her any way the moment allowed, no matter that someone might witness the act. It was an innocent gesture that let him put his hands on her. He’d settle for that. For now.
“Thanks.” Clearly discomfited, she stepped off the bus and moved aside to wait for him. “Where to?”
“Down this block. The diner is across that intersection,” he said, pointing.
The short, narrow blue-white-and-chrome fifties-style diner was a landmark in the Capitol District. Situated on Broad Street and open twenty-four hours a day, it was always busy. The clientele was diverse, ranging from politicians to street sweepers. The food was amazing and kept all the patrons coming back for more. Justin would know. His mother worked there, and he’d essentially grown up in the place.
The idea his mother would meet Grace left him a little uneasy, but that was okay. He wanted Grace to realize that he was well aware of how to treat people, women in particular. He didn’t like the fact that she seemed to consider him heartless. God knew he had been in the past.
Not that kid anymore.
The mantra interjected itself into his internal conversation. He’d learned to remind himself of the poor choices he’d left behind and the golden ring he’d dialed in and aimed for instead. He had his doctorate thanks to the Second Chances program and the woman Grace was about to meet.
He might be nervous, but he was also damn proud. His mother was amazing. He’d never brought a date to the diner—though he supposed this wasn’t a date. If he had to ask for clarification, Grace would undoubtedly remind him it was “just lunch.” Still, his mom would understand.
“Earth to Justin.”
His gaze snapped to hers as they stood at the crosswalk. “Sorry. What was that?”
“How’d you find this place?”
“It’s a bit of a landmark. The diner is owned and run by a cantankerous Irishman and staffed with the best waitresses in town. And if memory serves, I owe you a piece of pie. Good pie. There’s none better than the chocolate cream they serve here.”
She flushed, and her hand went to her throat. “You don’t owe me anything.”
“I pay my debts, and I say I owe you pie, so there you go. Pie it is.”
The light changed, and they crossed the street, then the diner’s parking lot.
Justin held open the door and ushered her inside. “Sit wherever you’ll be most comfortable.”