Holding Her Hand (Reed Brothers Book 15)(29)

“My dad hates you?”

“No.” I look south again. “My dick. He hates me. He’ll never forgive me for subjecting him to that.”

Her face suddenly looks warm. “Well, I’d offer to give him a kiss and make it better, but that would be really inappropriate.”

My dick apparently accepts the apology. He’s a forgiving bastard. In fact, I think he’d like to come out and bask in the glow of her saying she’s sorry. I pull my shirt down to cover the growing bulge. “You ready to get out of here?” While I can still walk?

The sun is setting as we leave the shop, but we’re in the heart of the city. Despite the hustle and bustle, the people bumping into my shoulder, and the way Lark has to move side to side to dodge people and potholes, when she slips her hand into mine and threads our fingers together, I never felt quite so complete. She holds my hand, and the feel of her trusting me sinks straight to the very center of me, and the only thing that matters is that she’s close to me. I could go on holding her hand forever and be perfectly content. But suddenly Lark stops and looks behind us. Her brow furrows and she looks up at me.

I wanted to have a quiet evening with my girl, and now I’m stuck in the middle of the city with my girl…and my ex-girlfriend, who is not very happy to see us. Particularly not holding hands. She’s like a bad penny, and I can’t help but wonder why she keeps showing up where I am.

Samantha glares at our clasped fingers. Lark tries to pull her fingers from mine, but I hold tighter and look only at her, trying to tell her with my eyes not to worry, that this is not going to be an issue. But it is going to be an issue. I’m aware of it. Lark is aware of it too.

Suddenly, two men in suits walk up on each side of us. They say something to Lark and she looks relieved. She tugs my hand and points to a dark vehicle that’s parked at the curb. A uniformed man holds the door open.

“For us?” I ask her.

She smiles. “For us.”

Samantha tugs on my sleeve. “Are you dating her?” she asks.

I watch Lark slide into the car and then I get in behind her. I look out the open door and say, “Yes. I’m dating her.”

“Your mother is going to be so angry!”

I heave a sigh. My mother is a problem I’ll worry about tomorrow. Right now, I just want to worry about Lark. Right now, I just want to know if she likes me as much as I like her. I want to know if she thinks about me as much as I think about her. If she thinks we could make this real and normal. If a deaf guy can love a hearing girl, I want to give it a shot. I just hope that’s what she wants too, because I kind of need her now. Like air. Like water. Like food. Like knowledge. Like art. She’s become so much more than a cap thief.

I pull my phone out of my pocket and go to my contacts list. I change her name in my phone from Lark McCapsnatcher to Lark McMine.

She leans her head on my shoulder and looks at what I type. Then she blushes and buries her face in my shoulder. I press a kiss against her hair. She squeezes my knee and I slip my hand under hers so I can hold it. I could hold this girl’s hand forever.





Lark

“You want to go to my apartment?” he asks me.

“Now?”

He nods. “I can make dinner.”

“You cook?”

“Are you kidding? I make a banging grilled cheese.”

“I love grilled cheese.” I lean my head on his shoulder and close my eyes, breathing in the clean, manly scent of him.

Gently cupping my face with his hand, he tilts my head up. “Was that a yes?” he asks with his voice.

“Yes,” I say. He nods and spells out his address for me. I give it to the driver, who looks a second too long at me in the rearview mirror.

Ryan’s brow furrows. “Would you rather go to your apartment?”

“No,” I rush to reassure him. “I want to go to yours.”

He smiles and kisses me quickly. The car pulls up outside his building and my driver hops out to open the door. “I won’t need you for the rest of the night,” I tell him.

“I’ll wait for you,” he says. He looks everywhere but at me.

“I said I won’t need you.”

“I’ll wait just the same.” He pretends to pick a fleck of lint from his jacket.

“Suit yourself,” I toss out.

He glowers at me and goes to park the vehicle.

“Is he coming with us?” Ryan asks.

“Probably.”

His brow shoots up. “Into the apartment?”

“No, he’ll probably stay in the hallway.”

“He can come inside if you need for him to.”

“No,” I tell him. “I want you all to myself.”

He grimaces. “That might be difficult.”

We go up the elevator and I can’t figure out what he means by that, until we open the door.

There’s a poker table in the middle of the room. “Poker night,” Ryan tells me.

There are four men sitting around the table, and each of them has a small pile of chips in front of him. They don’t look up when we walk in, and then I realize they’re all deaf.

I tug Ryan’s sleeve. “Are you sure you want me to be here right now?”

He nods and smiles at me. “I’m positive. You can meet my friends.”