Coming Home(50)

“No way. Then I’d have to put money in the jar.”

A slow smile lit her face as she looked at him. “If you really have a jar started, I’m pretty pumped. I should have my something pretty by this time tomorrow.”

“So little faith,” he said, and Leah shrugged.

“Old habits die hard,” she replied as she brought her drink to her lips.

He watched her lick the rim again before taking a sip, and he swallowed hard. She looked tempting enough tonight; the absolute last thing he needed was to be six inches away from her while she kept licking that glass.

He pulled his eyes away from her mouth and back up to her face; her normally wavy hair was straight and shiny, and she had some shimmery stuff above her eyes that made them look intensely green. And her mouth—that goddamn mouth. She wasn’t wearing any of that goopy, shiny shit that so many girls wore, but they were a soft pink color, and so full he wanted to lean over and bite her bottom lip.

“You look really beautiful tonight,” he said before he could stop himself, and he saw the surprise register on her face as she paused mid-sip.

She swallowed, clearing her throat before she smiled shyly. “Thank you.”

“So Tommy was telling me how you guys all work together,” Holly said.

“Oh really?” Robyn asked. “Where do you guys work?”

They spent the next hour talking and laughing over drinks, and Danny was pleasantly surprised by how at ease Leah seemed to be with his friends; she and Tommy had a quick and easy rapport, and whenever Jake said something horrible, she would just roll her eyes or laugh it off.

And on two separate occasions, both Tommy and Jake gave him the signal that meant Leah earned their seal of approval.

Danny had stopped drinking after the beer he’d ordered to appease Leah, but the rest of them continued to order rounds. Jake was regaling the girls with a story about a belligerent customer who had insisted they’d broken his car when they’d worked on it, and when they took a tow truck out to pick it up, it turned out the guy was just out of gas. In his current state, the animation he put into telling the story had Danny cracking up, despite the fact that he’d heard it a million times.

In the middle of Jake’s spot-on imitation of the guy, Danny felt something brush over the back of his hand, and he glanced over at Leah. Her brow was pulled together, her eyes trained on his hand as she ran the tip of her index finger along his knuckles.

Right over his scars.

He jerked his hand back instinctively, and she jolted, yanking her own hand back as her eyes flashed up to his. She brought her hands into her lap as she quickly turned her attention back to Jake, looking like a child who had just been caught doing something wrong.

Danny watched her for a second before he looked back down at his hand. A few of them were merely nicks now; little silvery lines against the tanned skin. But the ones across his knuckles were still bright red lines, jagged and angry.

He wet his lips before he looked back at her. Her eyes were downcast as she picked at her fingernail, and he could see a slight blush coloring her cheeks.

But instead of driving him crazy, this time it made him feel sick.

He watched her fingers fiddling awkwardly under the table, and before he could think about what he was doing, he reached over and placed his hand on top of hers, stilling the movement.

She froze, slowly lifting her eyes back to the conversation as her posture straightened.

“DeLuca, what was it the dude said when we told him he had no gas?” Jake asked through his laughter.

Danny chuckled, using his fingers to turn Leah’s hand so that it was palm up beneath his. “He said, ‘Well, spank my ass and call me Fudgie.’”