Page 48 of I'm Yours

“Mm hmm. That’d be why.”

“Wow. I really wish you’d have told me.”

I continue to eat, the simple comfort of the food before me bringing back more memories of our time together. I wonder if he thinks the same. By the way he keeps glancing up at me from his meal tells me that he does.

He clears his throat. “So how did that lead to your career change?”

I snort out a laugh at his subject change. “Money was part of it. I should be honest that after you left for school, I kind of lost it a little bit.”

He opens his mouth to say something. Probably something to the effect of he never wanted to leave me in the first place, but I hold up a hand to stop him. “I met a few new people through Billy and one night they dared me to go to Eve’s Gentlemen’s Club with them.”

“And you were never one to back down from a dare.”

The corner of my mouth ticks up. “Right. But the joke was on them. When I started watching the dancers, something happened. I found a beauty in their movements. I understood there was a part of what they were doing that wouldn’t be enjoyable but I got lost in the art of it all. I missed dancing so much and we were financially not making it.”

He pushes away his now empty plate and cups his large hands around his coffee cup. “So you did it to help the family but also because you enjoyed it?” He sounds doubtful but I get it. Stripping isn’t something most people would say they wanted to do for a living. For most, it’s a means to an end. And it was for me, too. It just happened to turn into something more than I expected.

“Not the stripping part, but the dancing part? Yes. I actually loved it. I’d walk onto the stage and it didn’t matter what I was wearing or if men — and women — were making lewd comments. I didn’t care if I had to pick up dollar bills off the floor when I was done with my routine.”

He looks down at my plate and I grin, moving it so he can finish. He smiles and it brings back such a sense of nostalgia that I have to swallow back the tears that are threatening to spill over. “Gotta say, even knowing that you teach pole dancing, I did not expect that you once did it for a living.”

“Yeah. It surprised me, too.”

“I’ll admit, I really hate the idea of you stripping.”

Laughing, I tuck some hair behind my ear. “I get it. While I wouldn’t be where I am today without it, I am glad it’s not something that’s still in my life.”

“Me, too.”

He finishes off the rest of my meal and our waitress drops off our bill. Reed reaches into his pocket and pulls out a handful of cash, dropping it on the table then he stands, holding out a hand to me.

“Come on. We have a lot of the list left to discuss.”

I place my hand in his and he grips me tightly, pulling me up out of my seat. He was always strong but his new muscles are really quite something. I can feel his strength as he tugs me to standing. But what really has me stumbling over my own feet is the fact that we walk out the door with my hand still clutched in his.

“Where are we going?”

“No clue. Just know that I can’t sit in the diner any longer while you tell me what happened while I was gone.”

“Oh.”

He opens the passenger door to his pickup and helps me in, his hands going around my waist. Once I’m in, he slams the door and rounds the front, getting into the driver’s seat. It doesn’t click with me that I didn’t need to get into his pickup until we’re driving away from the diner.

“Uh, what just happened here? My car is back there. Where the hell are we going?”

He comes to a stop at the stop sign, looks both ways then continues through the intersection. “Sorry. I really wasn’t thinking. Do you want me to take you back?”

“Would you?”

He barks out a laugh. “Ha! Probably not. Unless you really wanted to.”

I pretend to think it through but there’s no way I’m asking him to take me back to my car. I sit back in the seat and roll down my window, breathing in the fresh air. “I suppose it’s okay. If you have a plan as to where we’re going, that is.”

“Don’t I always have a plan? Remember, some things never change.”

He’s right. Because sitting in the passenger seat of his pickup feels so comfortable, so normal, that it’s almost as if no time has passed.

Chapter Twelve

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