Page 16 of More Than a Hero
Her lips twitched. “Would you rather I dance around it?”
“Not at all.” He let his arm drape across the back of the sofa, his fingers brushing lightly against her shoulder. “Since you asked—yeah, I’m enjoying myself. A lot.”
Her eyes searched his face, something quiet and unreadable flickering in their depths. Then she smiled again. “Good. Me too.”
For a moment, they just sat there, the hum of the refrigerator in the background, the faint tick of a clock on the wall. The silence was comfortable. Pete had been on enough dates to know this feeling didn’t come often. And if he had his way, tonight wouldn’t be the last time he sat beside Angie, in this home that already felt like one he could come to know.
8
Angie couldn’t believe how well the date was going.
Under normal circumstances, she never would have invited a first date to her house. But something about Pete had her throwing her usual rules out the window. Maybe it was his quiet confidence, the way he didn’t try too hard but still made her feel like he genuinely wanted to be there. Or perhaps it was simply that she trusted him. And when she had told him she didn’t want the night to end, she’d meant it.
From the moment she had spotted him at the restaurant, her gaze had taken him in, and she was just as mesmerized as when she’d first seen him in uniform. Tonight, he wore dark jeans and a navy blue button-up with the sleeves rolled to his forearms, the fabric stretched just right over lean muscle. A charcoal-gray sports coat had completed the look, giving him that effortless put-together but not too put-together appearance.
But looks could be deceiving. Just because she was attracted to a man didn’t mean they were meant to be. That was why she had been cautious, why she’d suggested they take separate vehicles and meet at the restaurant. An escape route was always good to have. But now, sitting next to him in the warmth of her home, she didn’t feel the need for one. She wanted time. Timeto get to know him. Time for him to get to know her. And, hopefully, for both of them to like what they discovered.
She took a sip of her beer, settling into the sofa, and turned toward him, one knee tucked onto the cushion to face him more fully. “Tell me about the young people you were with at the YMCA.”
Pete shrugged, rolling the bottle between his palms. “I just saw a need in the community and thought I could do some good.”
She arched a brow. “That answer was good, but it feels a little… incomplete.”
He chuckled, his thumb absently peeling at the label of his bottle, his eyes dropping for a second.
“Pete?” she prompted gently. When he lifted his head, she held his gaze, speaking carefully. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. And I certainly don’t want you to feel like you owe me anything. But I do want you to feel like you can share things with me. Anything. Because I really want to get to know you.”
This time, he didn’t look away. Instead, he studied her, and something serious and contemplative moved in his dark eyes before he nodded slowly. “I didn’t exactly have the same upbringing as you did.”
She blinked but kept her expression neutral. His words surprised her. But more than that, she wanted to know more.
“You grew up with parents you speak highly of,” he continued. “You’re close to your grandparents. I’m sure you know how lucky you are.”
She bit the corner of her lip and nodded. “I do. There are times I probably take them for granted, but I know how incredibly fortunate I was growing up. And how lucky I am to still have them close.”
His jaw flexed slightly, and when he spoke again, his voice was steady, but there was a weight behind his words. “I’m not sure either of my parents was ever really interested in having kids. Or if they were, maybe it was just because that’s what they thought theyhadto do. Good parenting was never something they understood how to do.”
Her heart ached at the quiet way he spoke, and before she could think better of it, she reached out, her fingers lightly resting on his arm.
The warmth of his skin seeped through their touch, sending a charge through her system, but she ignored it. She didn’t want to be sidetracked by the sexual energy she felt around him.
“I’m so sorry,” she murmured. “Please, share anything you want.”
He hesitated, and then, without releasing his beer bottle, shifted his free hand over hers, wrapping his fingers around hers, holding tight.
“I wasn’t physically abused,” he said, his voice low. “But my parents were so unhappy that it spilled into everything with our family.” He exhaled, as if gathering his thoughts. “My dad worked, but he also liked to gamble. He was always sure he’d hit it big. But he never did. And every time he lost, he grew angrier. He drank a lot. I could usually tell how much money he’d lost by how drunk he was.”
Angie swallowed hard, tightening her grip on his arm.
“My mom worked part-time,” he continued, his tone even. “But she always felt like having kids had taken away her ‘big break,’ as she called it. When my dad would drink, she’d get mad, say she could have made it big if it hadn’t been for him… and then for us. They’d scream at each other until he left to gamble more, to drink more, to sleep around. And she’d drink, too. Get upset. Then turn on my sister and me, yelling about how we had ruined her life.”
She saw it then, the ghost of old wounds flickering across his face.
He took another sip of beer, then gave her hand a gentle squeeze.
“I remember you have a sister,” she said softly. His head tilted as though in question, and she hastened to remind him, “From the night we ran into each other… literally, in the pharmacy.”
A slow, genuine smile crossed Pete’s face, softening the hard edges that had formed as he spoke about his past. “That’s right. Yeah. Sally was just one year older than me. We protected each other growing up. Or at least… until I became rebellious.”
