neither a clutch, nor room for change in this dress."
I look up at him and notice the way his eyes burn. He nods, "I did notice that there is very little space in that dress for change. I was hoping you would be indebted to me."
Chills run up my spine. I feel my smile drop. He is no longer the sweet savior who played chess with me and fed me hospital pudding. Now he's the other one, the one who made me think things I shouldn’t. My mouth feels dry when I speak, "Indebted?"
He shakes his head, "Your mind tends to wander down the dirtier streets does it not? A dance. I would accept a single dance as payment."
I feel ridiculous, but I stand on my wobbly feet. "Do you mind if I kick my shoes off? They're making an attempt at my life."
He shakes his head, "I have never understood the point to high heels. They're sexy in a boudoir for a few moments, but they seem horrid to wear for an entire day or evening."
I choose to ignore the boudoir comment and laugh, "Horrid ain't a strong enough word." I lean against the beam next to me, as I step out of my shoes and walk into his outstretched arms. The jazz band is playing next to the open windows of the house and when I touch his hands, it's as if the sound of the music travels to us. The thick air is heavy enough to bring a song with it, all the way to the back yard.
His huge arms wrap around me and hold me tightly to him.
"You are so beautiful. I have a feeling you don’t see it." His voice is low, as if we are sharing a secret. "You are hard on yourself. Your mother is hard on you. I don’t mean to pry; Mrs. Kirsch told me."
I shake my head and lean into his broad chest, "I am what she tells me I am." The words don’t sting, not like they used to. I'm used to them now.
He kisses the top of my head, something I'm growing fond of and whispers, "You are perfection and I swear, I will end anyone who says otherwise."
I laugh. He's crazy like Emily. It's not the first time I've heard him say it. It doesn’t bother me as much as it should, Em is always threatening to kill people. Of course she's a hundred and ten pounds. He's massive compared to her.
"I would. I would do anything to make you happy, Lorelei. Anything."
I glance up at him and shake my head, "You don't have to do anything. I'm happy right now. You made me feel safe. Thank you, again."
His eyes say things his lips don't. I see the emotions bubbling inside of him. "It was my pleasure, both times."
I close my eyes and relax into his chest and the sounds of the jazz. If I really slow down my mind, I can feel the bourbon and smoke shift the world slightly. I let myself melt into him. He doesn’t press my chest into his. He doesn’t let his hand stray beyond the small of my back. He doesn’t hold my hand tighter than he would an egg.
Without shoes, my face only reaches his breast pocket. I knew he was tall but not as tall as he is and I'm not a short girl.
I let myself forget everything that has happened in such a short space of time until his voice ruins it. "Do you want to tell me about what I witnessed between yourself and Mr. Ryan?" His voice is soothing.
I shake my head, "I'm happy. Remember what we were just saying about being happy?"
He chuckles, "I want to know. Tell me."
I don't want to but his voice makes me, so like a good girl I explain it the way I should. "He was drinking I think, and got a bit overzealous. It's my fault. This dress, it's ridiculous. I'm sure he'll be plenty sorry tomorrow."
His hands slip up my arms fast like a rattlesnake moves. Instantly he's holding me by my shoulders and shaking me. His eyes are fierce. "It's not your fault. That dress is tempting and yet I'm able to keep my wits about me when you're near. No true gentleman ever puts his hands on a lady without her saying so."
He's angry. I'm not afraid though, not like I should be. I have a feeling he won't hurt me. I trust him more than I trust any person in the world. He has saved my life twice. He snarls when he
I look up at him and notice the way his eyes burn. He nods, "I did notice that there is very little space in that dress for change. I was hoping you would be indebted to me."
Chills run up my spine. I feel my smile drop. He is no longer the sweet savior who played chess with me and fed me hospital pudding. Now he's the other one, the one who made me think things I shouldn’t. My mouth feels dry when I speak, "Indebted?"
He shakes his head, "Your mind tends to wander down the dirtier streets does it not? A dance. I would accept a single dance as payment."
I feel ridiculous, but I stand on my wobbly feet. "Do you mind if I kick my shoes off? They're making an attempt at my life."
He shakes his head, "I have never understood the point to high heels. They're sexy in a boudoir for a few moments, but they seem horrid to wear for an entire day or evening."
I choose to ignore the boudoir comment and laugh, "Horrid ain't a strong enough word." I lean against the beam next to me, as I step out of my shoes and walk into his outstretched arms. The jazz band is playing next to the open windows of the house and when I touch his hands, it's as if the sound of the music travels to us. The thick air is heavy enough to bring a song with it, all the way to the back yard.
His huge arms wrap around me and hold me tightly to him.
"You are so beautiful. I have a feeling you don’t see it." His voice is low, as if we are sharing a secret. "You are hard on yourself. Your mother is hard on you. I don’t mean to pry; Mrs. Kirsch told me."
I shake my head and lean into his broad chest, "I am what she tells me I am." The words don’t sting, not like they used to. I'm used to them now.
He kisses the top of my head, something I'm growing fond of and whispers, "You are perfection and I swear, I will end anyone who says otherwise."
I laugh. He's crazy like Emily. It's not the first time I've heard him say it. It doesn’t bother me as much as it should, Em is always threatening to kill people. Of course she's a hundred and ten pounds. He's massive compared to her.
"I would. I would do anything to make you happy, Lorelei. Anything."
I glance up at him and shake my head, "You don't have to do anything. I'm happy right now. You made me feel safe. Thank you, again."
His eyes say things his lips don't. I see the emotions bubbling inside of him. "It was my pleasure, both times."
I close my eyes and relax into his chest and the sounds of the jazz. If I really slow down my mind, I can feel the bourbon and smoke shift the world slightly. I let myself melt into him. He doesn’t press my chest into his. He doesn’t let his hand stray beyond the small of my back. He doesn’t hold my hand tighter than he would an egg.
Without shoes, my face only reaches his breast pocket. I knew he was tall but not as tall as he is and I'm not a short girl.
I let myself forget everything that has happened in such a short space of time until his voice ruins it. "Do you want to tell me about what I witnessed between yourself and Mr. Ryan?" His voice is soothing.
I shake my head, "I'm happy. Remember what we were just saying about being happy?"
He chuckles, "I want to know. Tell me."
I don't want to but his voice makes me, so like a good girl I explain it the way I should. "He was drinking I think, and got a bit overzealous. It's my fault. This dress, it's ridiculous. I'm sure he'll be plenty sorry tomorrow."
His hands slip up my arms fast like a rattlesnake moves. Instantly he's holding me by my shoulders and shaking me. His eyes are fierce. "It's not your fault. That dress is tempting and yet I'm able to keep my wits about me when you're near. No true gentleman ever puts his hands on a lady without her saying so."
He's angry. I'm not afraid though, not like I should be. I have a feeling he won't hurt me. I trust him more than I trust any person in the world. He has saved my life twice. He snarls when he
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