I’ve never been so nervous in my life for this non-date with Paige. I took my time getting ready. Since I left Havre and Bell, I have never rushed to leave work, but today, I did. I flew back into Salt Lake, thankful for my fuzz buster because I was speeding like the devil was chasing me.

I arrived to an empty flat, showered, and dressed myself before I left again to get to the restaurant. I had plenty of time, but I didn’t want to waste the moment. Against my better judgment, I stopped and picked up flowers for Paige, but I didn’t buy just any flowers.

Jax has a friend who makes art out of old, worn, and used metals. He also just so happens to make bouquets of metal flowers and gave me a fair price on some when I called him on my way back to the flat.

Paige isn’t the type of woman who would cherish the idea of receiving regular, smelly flowers, and I am the type of guy who doesn’t do those sorts of things. Well, for my mum, I do, but if you had birthed me into this world, all ten pounds of screaming baby, I would buy you flowers too.

I’m fully aware Paige could take them and then beat me with the beautiful steel and iron arrangement, but I hope she won’t.

Did I mention I was nervous?

I never really did the whole dating scene. I find a girl—later, a woman— who I want to spend the evening with; woo her, fuck her, and then leave. Even if this isn’t a date, I’m still sweating like a whore in church.

Pacing the length of the entrance, I’m surprised no one has asked me to leave yet. I look like I’m casing the joint, waiting to make my move on the unsuspecting patrons inside. I had to walk here since parking was limited. As I made my way, I looked around at all the cars, trucks, bicycles, and bikes lining the streets to see if I could spot one of Paige’s rides.

I never saw one of them. And when I got to the place, I didn’t spot her. Even with all the throngs of people milling about, Paige does not blend in easily. From her strong, confident gait to her rigid posture and constant scowl, she stands out. When the after work rush finally simmered and died out, the street was left with its normal silence. If you want to use silence in a loose way?

I’m on my hundredth pace when the clicking of heels draws my attention to behind me. Something tugs the hand holding the flowers backward, nearly causing me to stumble. I put my foot back to keep me from falling and touch someone.

“Are these for me?” Every hair on my body stands on end as if I was touching one of those electric balls with the simplest touch and the sound of her voice. Warm honey oozes into my chest, stalling my heart.

I turn ever so slowly to take in the vision before me. I’m surprised when I finally see her. It is a pleasant surprise but still a shock the same to see Paige in something other than black. And to see her in color at all is a myth.

Yet here she stands before me in yellow. Her dress fits her and her personality to a T. It is a fifties halter dress that cinches at her waist with a shiny black belt. Her tanned skin glows and her tattoos look like moving pictures when she bends to take the metal bouquet from me.

Her eyes flutter closed and she smiles, feigning to smell the nonexistent floral scent. Her hair is put in a ponytail with the bump thing in the middle while her bangs stay down in their usual place. I travel the length of her; everything is yellow, including the pumps she wears, and I seriously hope to have them around my waist sometime soon. If I hadn’t seen her face, heard her voice, or felt as I do when she is near, I would have never guessed it was Paige in this outfit.

The only normal Paige things remain is her makeup and red nails.

“How did you know I hate flowers?” Her smile is full, thinning out her red lips.

She is radiant.

“Just a hunch. I thought you might like these instead.” I don’t offer my arm to her to lead her into the restaurant, but I do hold the door open.

Just so I can grab her arse.

All guys do it; if you have one who doesn’t, something is wrong with him, not you.

“Good man.” Her laugh is soft. “You would be surprised. I’ve had guys bring me dead flowers before thinking I would enjoy them.”

“And what did you do?” I offer her a seat before taking my own.

“Threw them away right in front of them and walked away.”

“Sounds like you.” I laugh. In our seats, we begin to look over our menus in an eerily comfortable silence. It’s been a few years since I’ve eaten Japanese, so I struggle to remember what is good to eat.

“I haven’t done anything like this in years,” I admit.

“I’ve never been here.” Paige doesn’t look up from her menu. Her brows crease as she studies the menu.

“Then why did you pick it?”

“I wanted to try something new.” Call it a gut feeling, but I don’t think she is talking about the food.

“You never did anything like this growing up?” I try for nonchalant; I just hope it works. As a kid, my parents would take us out for a nice or sometimes even a fancy dinner every year for their anniversary. Even as Priscilla and I got older, we kept it up. As far as I know, they still do it even though I’m not there.

“It was rare to have a full meal at our family table.”

“Your parents struggled?”

“I’ve decided what I want.” She gently but frigidly places the menu down. The waiter must have been close by because he is there taking our order in an instance and leaving just as quickly. As I drink my water, I’m lost at what to discuss since the family subject is closed.

Race?

Bikes?

Or do I keep up about her past, which is what I really want to know about?

“My old man was a drunk.” My expression must look shocked, completely taken off guard because, for the first time since I met her, Paige winces. “He was a useless drunk. You know how there can be functioning drunks? Well, he wasn’t one of them.” She downs her own water, needing to break eye contact with me.

“My mom worked her ass off at three jobs, sometimes four if she could manage. Leaving Parker and me with the drunk all the time. When we would manage to get ahead just enough, he would take everything my mom had saved and spend it on booze and whores.” Her laugh is bitter and broken, but she continues. “He had more sense to take care of his addiction than to make sure his family was fed, clothed, or had a roof over our heads.”

There is more to the story than what she is telling me; I can see it in her eyes. But no fucking way am I pushing it.

“And here I thought I had it bad.”

Her laugh nearly wounds me. “No offense, Oz, but you haven’t seen shit. Parker and I have lived through the fires of hell and managed to turn out a fraction better than our donors.”

“You two don’t seem that bad.”

“We are.” The finality she exudes tells me to drop it, so I do.

“Thank you for getting me on the bike this afternoon. For the first time in years, I feel alive again.”

Gratitude washes over her features, and her posture softens. “You’re welcome. I knew it would help.”

When our food comes, we settle into less intense conversation, discussing their huge party in just a couple of weeks. I’m starting to get excited to see what all they have going on. By the time the check comes, Paige has no problem handing it over to me, declaring she enjoys a free meal as much as the next woman. And when we leave, I’m surprised when her fingers thread between mine.

“Where is your ride?” I ask her, looking up and down the street but not seeing anything. Normally, this is the part where I go back to the woman’s place and screw her for a couple of hours, but that is just a dream. I will have no twosome tonight, just a handsome with me, myself, and I.

“Down there, close to your truck.”

We take off, and the filter that intercepts stupid shit has taken the night off. “I’ve never been on a date.”

“Oh? Is that what this was? Even after I told you no?” I hear the smile and relax. Do other men walk around on eggshells, praying they don’t say the wrong thing around a woman they are interested in? Because that is how I feel most of the time.

“I don’t want to push you.”

“Against a wall is fine.” She nudges me, our hands staying linked. “I’ve only ever done random one-time hookups.”

“Me too.”

“I guess this was nice. Could we call it a date?” We stop at her car, and she leans against the hood. “I want to thank you for not pushing things.” She stares at her fingers as they play with the buttons of my shirt. “I had a lot of fun, and that surprises me.” Her brows crease again. It does nothing to deter from her beauty.

“You’re welcome.”

I can’t just walk away from her without a kiss. Gently, as if I were picking up an injured animal, I lift her chin, bringing her gaze to meet mine aa her eyes to slowly lift from their spot on my chest. With the faintest of touches, I glide my hand behind her neck, then press our lips together for a kiss. I don’t push past the connection at our lips.

I feel the muffled gasp in her body as I press into her. Her lashes fan across my cheek before closing, and her hands clench my shirt. Pulling away from her, I feel the heaviness of her lipstick on my own lips but make no move to remove it. I’ll go to bed with it on; I don’t give a flying fuck.

“Good night, Paige.”

“Night, Oz.” I make sure to deposit her in her car and watch her drive away before I get into my truck and head home.

Halfway home, a song comes on reminding me of what I seem to have found with Paige. I can’t help the smile as I start to sing along because she is a “Wild Thing.”