Page 6 of Wild Tangled Hearts

“Hungry?” He asks, breaking the moment and taking a small step back.

“Famished.”But not for food.

That smirk is back in full force, and I swear the man can read my thoughts. “Come on,” he says, “Taking my hand.”

We head inside a small Italian restaurant. Soft, warm lighting bathes the rustic wooden tables with checkered red-and-white tablecloths. The walls are adorned with vintage Italian posters and framed photographs capturing the essence of Italy, and the aroma of garlic, tomatoes, and freshly baked bread fills the air, instantly making my stomach growl.

As we’re led to our table, I can’t help but notice the admiring glances from other diners. Damien’s presence seems to command attention.

“Do you ever get used to everyone staring at you?” I ask, chuckling when I see more heads turn in our direction.

He places his hand on my lower back as we walk to our table and whispers in my ear, “Pretty sure they’re staring at you, beautiful.”

My cheeks flush at the compliment.

Yeah, he’s good.But I can’t deny the fact that I love it.

“So, you’re a teacher,” he says as we settle into our seats, menus in hand.

I nod, feeling more at ease as the conversation turns towards something less intense. “I’m the art teacher at Crestwood Elementary. Some people think it’s a simple job, but it hasinterestingdays.” I know I’m rambling, but Damien smiles, his demeanor giving the impression that he’s genuinely interested in what I’m saying. So I continue, “Like today. I was teaching my students about impressionism, and I had this one boy, Oliver, who got a little too ‘impressionistic’ with his painting. Twelve-year-old boys can be the most challenging.”

Damien chuckles. “Sounds like Oliver and I would have gotten along.”

“Yeah,” I say lightly, a smile tugging at my lips. “I have a feeling you gave your teachers a run for their money.”

“You have no idea.” He winks. Then his expression grows more contemplative, and his brows pull down in a slight frown. “Kids are a handful,” he says, that serious broodiness returning. “Teaching is an important job. I admire your dedication.”

“There’s nothing else I’d rather do except maybe spend my days with my sketchbook and watercolors,” I say sincerely. “I genuinely love my job. So, what about you? Who is Damien Blackwood?”

His gaze turns distant momentarily, as if deciding how much of himself to reveal. “Well, I run my security business and enjoy the thrill of the open road. Motorcycles are my passion. As for the rest…” He winks. “You’ll just have to find out.”

It’s a challenge that both intrigues and terrifies me.

Throughout dinner, the conversation flows naturally, with Damien showing genuine interest in getting to know me. However, he skillfully avoids delving into deeper discussions about his own life, leaving an air of mystery that only reinforces that bad-boy aura of his.

But, god, that smile and those eyes are an irresistible trap. One that I am easily and quickly falling into.

He doesn’t miss a chance to brush my hand with his fingers or grace my arm with his touch. The chemistry between us is undeniable, an electric current that crackles with every subtle touch and lingering gaze.

Fire.That’s what he is — a dangerous inferno of temptation.

And I love it.

Damien is uncharted territory for me, but maybe he’s exactly what I need — a tall, mysterious, brooding figure who will sweep me off my feet and take me on an adventure I never knew I craved.

Or perhaps I’ve recently been indulging in one too many angsty romance novels. The ones that tempt us to believe that there aregood,bad boys. All they need is to find the right girl.

My inner pragmatist rolls her eyes at the thought and reminds me that real life rarely mirrors the pages of a romance novel.

But I could definitely use some of those steamy scenes in my life.

The night air is cool and crisp as we leave the restaurant, and he helps me onto the back of his bike. As I settle onto the sleek leather seat behind Damien, I can’t help but feel a thrill of anticipation coursing through my veins, not just for the ride, but for what else the night has in store.

Should I invite him in?I chew on my bottom lip, knowing what will happen if I do.

With a confident twist of the throttle, the powerful engine roars to life, sending vibrations humming through the frame.

We glide smoothly through the darkened streets, the city’s lights painting streaks of vibrant color across the canvas of the night. The wind rushes past, tousling my hair and carrying with it a sense of freedom and exhilaration.

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