Olivier (Chicago Blaze 9) - Page 26

When Daphne yawns on the drive home, I suddenly wish she was coming back to my place. For a few hours of sweaty sex, of course, but also because I want to see her makeup free, in whatever she likes to wear to bed, and have a soft, sleepy, end-of-the-night conversation with her.

I’ve never looked at any woman and wished for that, but Daphne is different from other women in every respect. It’s maddeningly good to want her this much.

“What was it like growing up in your little French town?” she asks, resting her head on her headrest as she turns to face me.

“Not as idyllic as a lot of people think,” I admit. “I didn’t get to venture out of Sousceyrac until I was a teenager, because we couldn’t afford it. My dad lost his job when I was ten and that was hard. For all of us. My mom and I did what we could to keep the family afloat—she did ironing and sewing and I did chores for a couple local farmers, but…” I shake my head as I remember those days. “It was hard for my dad. He was angry and bitter and I see now that it came from a place of shame that he couldn’t care for his family, but to a kid it just felt like he was mad at the world.”

“That sounds hard.” Daphne’s brow is furrowed with concern.

“I promised myself when I was a teenager that I’d be financially secure. So I could take care of my parents when they needed it, and so I never turned into my father. He never really got over feeling like a failure over losing his job.”

“Are your parents still around?”

“My dad passed away about ten years ago. He and my mom lived in a small Italian villa I bought with my first really big payday. I asked them to take care of it for me. She still lives there today.”

Ben brings the car to a stop in front of Daphne’s building. She touches my hand in silent acknowledgment of what I told her about my parents, and then Ben opens her door.

I get out on my side of the car and meet her on the sidewalk, then walk her up the stairs to the front entrance of her building. The place is old and neglected, and I gather from looking at it that Daphne is living exclusively on her Safe Harbor salary rather than her family’s money. I admire her for that.

“I had fun,” she says, reaching into her bag for her keys. “Thank you.”

“So did I. When can I see you again?”

She smiles and looks up at me. “You want to go on another non-date with me?”

“I do. And I think you want it, too.”

“He’s a mind reader, too,” she says wryly. “You really are a man of many talents.”

“Next Friday night?” I ask, grinning.

I watch as she thinks it over, hoping she’ll say yes. “I can’t on Friday night, I’m training new volunteers on field outreach.”

“On a Friday night?”

“Yeah. We go out into areas where there are homeless camps and into parks to help people. We pass out clean needles, food bags, blankets, that kind of thing.”

I suppress a sigh. “You go out in downtown Chicago at night to find drug addicts?”

“And others, yes.”

“Daphne.”

She cocks a brow at me in question, and I shake my head.

“That sounds unsafe,” I say.

“Yet I do it once a month and I’m still in one piece.”

I put my hands on my hips, agitated. “But it only takes one—”

She cuts me off. “How about Saturday night?”

I see what she did there. Ignoring my concerns for her safety and distracting me by offering something she knows I want. I’ll come back to my concerns later.

“Giselle is seeing her mom next Saturday afternoon. I want to be home when she gets back in case it doesn’t go well. It generally ends in tears.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. You’re a good dad for wanting to be there for her.”

“Lunch next Sunday?” I ask.

“I can do that.”

“It’s a non-date.” I grin. “A hangout sesh, if you will.”

Daphne laughs. “You’re so hip.”

She holds my gaze, the cold winter wind not fazing either of us.

“So…according to my attorney’s brief on the hangout rule book, kissing is allowed,” I say.

“Is it, though?” she says playfully. “I may need to consult an attorney of my own before I can agree to that.”

“My attorney knows his stuff, and he said as long as there’s no groping, it’s not just allowed, but encouraged. According to the hangout bylaws, that is.”

She narrows her brows, a smile playing on her lips. “I’m intrigued by this information, but still not fully convinced.”

Her lips are only about a foot away. I’m forcing myself not to grab her face and kiss her like she’s never been kissed before. I can’t let this night end without at least one kiss.

Tags: Brenda Rothert Chicago Blaze Romance
Source: readsnovelonline.net
readsnovelonline.net Copyright 2016 - 2024