Page 23 of Daddy's Naughty Bartender
"I feel free. Protected. Like I can stop holding the world together because someone else has it handled. Like I can be soft without being weak."
"You're never weak." His hand finds mine across the table. "Softness isn't weakness, baby. It's trust. It's strength in its purest form."
"How do you always know what to say?"
"Because I see you." Simple. Certain. "I see the woman behind the armor. She's magnificent."
The server clears our glasses, pouring something new. Pinot noir, earthy and sensual. Jason never releases my hand.
"Tell me about your ex-wife."
His thumb strokes my knuckles. "Melissa wanted a husband who'd be her equal partner in everything. Fifty-fifty splits, perfect equality. She paid for her own dinner when we went on dates, opened her own door. She saw my need to provide, to protect, to lead as archaic. Controlling."
"Was it?"
"Sometimes," he admits. "I'm not perfect. I can be overbearing, too intense. But mostly, I just wanted to take care of her. To be needed. She wanted independence. I wanted interdependence."
"And that's what ended it?"
"Among other things." He brings my hand to his lips. "She found someone who gave her what she needed… she moved on long before we ever separated. I'm still looking."
The weight of his gaze makes the meaning clear.
"I'm complicated," I warn.
"I like complicated."
"I have kids."
"Who needs to see their mother happy."
"I'm rooted here."
"I'm portable." He smiles at my surprise. "My business runs itself mostly. I can consult from anywhere. Chicago is right up the road."
"You'd relocate for someone you've known a week?"
"I'd relocate for the right person. Time is just a number. Connection is what matters."
"This is crazy."
"Probably." He releases my hand, but only to stand and move to my side of the table. "Dance with me."
"There's no music."
"There's always music." He draws me to my feet, one hand on my waist, the other cradling mine. "Listen."
Soft jazz plays from hidden speakers, but that isn't what he means. Our bodies find rhythm in each other, swaying gently. His chin rests on my hair, and I let myself melt into his strength.
"Tell me what you're thinking," he murmurs.
"That this feels like a dream. That you feel too good to be true."
"I'm very real." He proves it by spinning me gently, then pulling me back closer than before. "Real enough to know this is rare. What we have."
"What do we have?"
"Chemistry. Connection." His hand splays across my bare back. "Complementary needs. You need someone to lean on. I need someone worth supporting. You want to let go. I want to catch you."
