Page 5 of Collateral Damage
“Well, I think we should use the term ‘friends’ loosely.”
I chuckle and watch her face turn from a scowl to a smile.
“You know you’re way cuter when you smile, right?”
I immediately frown, and she laughs again. Digging into her purse, she pulls out her cell. “Shit ’n damn.”
I hide my smirk behind my bottle. Fuck, she’s cute. “Problem?”
“My phone’s dead.”
“You could use mine.”
She smiles again. “Really? I just need to call a cab.”
“I can give you a ride.” The words are out of my mouth before I even know what I’m saying. Ten minutes ago, I wanted to get rid of her, and now I’m offering her a ride.
Jess chucks her phone back in her bag and blows a stray strand of hair out of her face. “I hardly know you.”
“I’m a good guy. I promise.”
“Yeah, because psychopaths have giant forehead tattoos advertising it.”
I chuckle. “Good point.”
She looks at me and bites her lip, obviously struggling with a decision. “What’s your real name, Tank?”
I hesitate. When did I last use my given name? “Chris Davis.”
“And where did you get Tank from? Prison?” Again with the giggling. Jesus, she’s turning my night right around.
I find myself chuckling again. Shit, I haven’t laughed this much in months. “Some guy in my squad gave me the name back when I was in Iraq. It stuck.”
“So you’re in the Army?”
“Marines.”
She considers this information for a beat and then smiles. “Fine. I’ll take that ride, but only if you dance with me first.”
I raise an eyebrow. “Lemme get this straight. I’m offering to help you out, and you’re laying down more demands?”
She nods her head slowly. “Pretty much. I can tell a lot about a guy when he dances with me.”
“All you’ll be able to tell about me is I’ve got two left feet.”
“I can’t believe that. You’re a soldier. Marching is just a choreographed dance.”
The snort erupts from my mouth. “You wouldn’t happen to be studying to be a lawyer, would you?”
Jess tilts her head and smiles. “I’m studying kinesiology. And I’m a fitness instructor part time.”
Ah, so that’s why she asked me if I was a fitness instructor based on my biceps.
“So what d’ya say, Tank? Are you gonna dance with me or what?”
I shoot a glance at the dance floor. I must be out of my fucking mind to be agreeing to this, but she has made my night, and I find myself wanting to spend more time with her. I hold out my hand, and she clasps it, and how does it feel so right?
“M’lady,” I say to stop my train of thought. It’s been a while since I’ve gotten laid, and now I’m getting sentimental.