She drops the sex kitten act and shrugs. “So what?”
“Anyway.” I drum my nails against the table. “He’s sort of part of the same organization my last ex was part of.” Can I even call Shadow an ex?
“Oh, shit, Serena, seriously?”
I’ve never mentioned motorcycle club or the Lost Kings MC to her specifically, but she understands the broad strokes.
“I thought you were done being used by bad boys?”
“Well, he’s definitely not a boy. Besides, it’s not like that. I met him as my patient first. It’s coincidence.” Or divine, cosmic interference.
“How’d you never meet him before?”
“Uh, well, that’s probably the most complicated part. He was just released from prison.”
She stares.
I squirm.
It sounds so bad when I say it out loud.
“Serena, I say this with love, but you deserve better.”
“You don’t even know him. He’s very…kind.”
“He’s such a nice guy that he was sent to prison?”
“Yes.”
“All right.” She touches her fingertips to her temples. “Open mind. Tell me all of it.”
I give her bits and pieces, including that he was once married, and end with our dinner date and the coat.
“He bought you a coat?” Emily stares at my jacket in disbelief. “How strangely romantic.”
I run my hand over the sleeve. “No one’s ever done anything so sweet for me before.”
“And he didn’t expect you to hop into bed with him?”
My cheeks heat and I stare at my coffee cup. “No. Actually, he’s turned me down twice now.”
“Serena.” She sighs. “I thought we made a pact. No dick jumping until—”
“I know. I know. Six months.” An evil grin twitches at the corners of my mouth. “I couldn’t help it. He’s really hot.”
“For an old guy?”
“For any man.”
“Don’t get mad.” She holds out her hands like a traffic cop, looks both ways, then leans in. “What if he’s put you off because of erectile dysfunction?”
My cheeks burn. “I don’t think that’s the problem.”
“How can you tell, if he won’t…”
“Because I was in his lap and could feel—”
“Oh, my.” She slaps her hand over her mouth. “Scandalous.”
“Will you be serious for one second?”
“Yes, yes. Sorry.” She raises her eyebrows several times. “Tell me more.”
“If I didn’t have his medical info, I would’ve thought he was in his forties.” I squeeze my bicep. “He’s pretty built.”
Her eyelids flutter shut. “God, I love a man with nicely defined arms.”
“His arms are more than nice. Everything about him is fine as hell.”
“What about the forearms? There is nothing sexier than a man rolling up his sleeves and showing off that wrist to elbow area.” She drags her fingers along her own arm. “A manly man with arms that look strong enough to easily build me some bookshelves or toss me over his shoulder.”
I burst out laughing. “Okay. That’s random.”
She shrugs. “What? I like functional masculinity. Plus big arms equal better protector.”
“I do feel safe around him,” I say quietly.
“Well, that’s a start.” Her voice softens. “He’s nice to you? No red flags?”
“Not yet.”
“Heavy drinking?” she asks.
“I haven’t seen him drink any alcohol yet.” I wait patiently. She’s going to list an entire checklist of red flags we’ve come up with for our future dating prospects.
“He’s not pressuring you for sex.” She taps her finger against her chin. “None of that negging bullshit?”
“No, he compliments me often. He’s kind.” I can’t fight another smile. “Gentle, even.”
“A gentle ex-con,” she muses. “Well, he’s not one of those macho pigs who’s too manly to let a female medical professional treat him. That alone speaks well of him.”
“That’s true. I sure get plenty of so-called upstanding men who are rude and dismissive.”
“Oh God, did you get rid of the one who mansplained physical therapy to you every time?”
“Yes, thank God.”
“Continue.”
“Nothing—you’re right. He listened and followed my directions. Took me seriously.” My lips curve. “Although, he definitely didn’t want to let on how much pain he was in—”
She wrinkles her nose and waves that off with a flick of her wrist. “But that’s most guys.”
“Right.”
“He was honest with you about his wife,” she continues. “That shows good character. Wanting to wrap things up with her before seeing where things might go with you.”
“Once I’d had time to think about it, I thought so too.” I pick up the empty sweetener packets and shred them into confetti. “Not like you-know-who, when I didn’t even find out he was married until—”
“Don’t go there.” She waves her hand in front of me like a magic wand. “That’s in the past. You’ve learned, and you’re moving on.”
With another biker when I swore I’d never go near one again.
“Anyway,” she sighs. “It’s still too early to tell. Just keep your eyes open.”
“I am.”
“You don’t sound so sure.”
“I’m worried I’m not healthy enough to be in a relationship yet.”
“Then it’s good that you’re taking things slow.” A sly smile spreads over her face. “Now, I have a favor to ask.”