Page 22 of Truck Off
“Anyone I know?” Felix asks.
I shake my head. “Just some guy from Beaver that I’ve known my whole life.”
I say the words like it’s no big deal, when everything about this date is a very big deal. I can’t bring myself to let my excitement show. Not until I know if there will be a second or even third date.
With Christian Mutter, nothing is a guarantee.
* * *
I pull up at the restaurant right at seven o’clock. Christian is leaning against the outside of the building with one leg propped up and his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jeans. Instead of his usual black leather jacket, he’s in a dark button-down shirt with the sleeves rolled up. It’s not his normal look, but it’s still a damn sexy look on him.
Our eyes meet for a second as I park a few spaces down from the entrance, and oh my, his intense gaze makes me feel like I’m fourteen again.
He pushes off the wall and saunters toward me. Just watching the way this man’s body moves is enough to make my stomach turn over in excitement.
He wanted to pick me up, but I refused. I can’t let Christian see the state of my home, with its leaky roof, sagging floorboards, and musty smell from the worn-out carpet. Not to mention the lack of furniture or anything else that suggests humans live there.
I am not ready to reveal that much about my life. My reality is enough to make me want to leave. I can’t imagine how someone from the outside will feel. Let’s survive our first date before I expose him to my hell.
He’s at my driver’s side door and opening it for me before I even shut off the engine. I grab my purse and look up at him. His hand is outstretched, and he’s wearing a small smile that makes my heart beat faster than his damn motorcycle at top speed.
His hair is a little disheveled, like he’s run his fingers through it several times. Is he just as nervous as I am? God, I hope so. It’ll make me feel better if we’re both nervous.
I take his hand, and a zing shoots up my arm and straight to my fluttering stomach. He helps me out of the car like a perfect gentleman, but he doesn’t step back to make room for me like one. No, he lets our bodies press close together like two lovers who are already familiar with each other. The closeness makes me dizzy.
“Hi,” he whispers as he leans down and kisses me on the cheek. I swear that small action makes my heart stop for a few beats.
I squeeze my eyes closed and fight to gain control of my body’s reaction to him. I don’t need to come off as overly zealous or needy on the first date.
But damn, that’s hard when he’s so close. His chest is pressed against my arm, and I can feel his heart beating just as fast as mine. Please let that be a good sign.
I open my eyes and meet his deep, whiskey brown eyes. They’re so beautiful and expressive and full of … What? Happiness? Excitement? There’s a spark in his eyes that surprises me. It softens his otherwise hard, bad boy exterior that I’ve grown so fond of over the years.
“Hi,” I finally manage to say in return. That seems to be enough to snap Christian back to reality, and he steps back. Then his eyes roam down my body. The heat and appreciation I see in his gaze almost makes me smile. Almost.
Dressed in all black, I’m wearing my favorite second skin leather pants with an off the shoulder, short sleeve, lace shirt that doesn’t leave a lot to the imagination. To my credit, I am wearing a black camisole underneath, but the shirt is a little revealing. It’s sexy and fun and shows off my tattoos. I hope it’ll tease Christian just enough that he’ll want more.
He steps back even further, giving me room to shut my door. But he doesn’t release my hand. Christian’s hand joined with mine is definitely something I could get used to.
“Shall we go inside?” he asks. He shifts his hand in mine until our fingers are laced together. It’s far more intimate than the simple hold he had on me a moment before.
I nod, hoping he can’t see the emotions reeling around inside me written all over my face. He doesn’t give anything away as he leads me inside to the hostess stand.
The hostess is a young girl that looks like she’s barely out of high school. When she looks at Christian, her eyes light up. He’s so freaking handsome that he attracts the attention of every woman in the restaurant.
“Can I-I … help you?” she asks, stuttering a little over her words.
“Reservation for two under Mutter,” he says like he doesn’t even notice the way the girl is looking at him.
She checks the schedule and nods quickly when she confirms our reservation. “Right this way.”
She leads us to the back of the restaurant to a two-seater table by the window. I try not to notice the looks we get as we weave through the tables.
We’re at Emery’s Steakhouse, which is probably the nicest restaurant in all of southern Ohio. It’s much too fancy for the likes of me.
There isn’t a dress code, but it’s clear the guests and staff are not used to seeing someone like me here. And by me, I mean someone covered in tattoos in leather pants and a shirt she bought at a thrift store.
When I look up at Christian, he doesn’t even seem to notice the looks we’re getting. He meets my gaze and his smile falters. “What’s wrong?”