Page 33 of Things I Read About
He huffs a little laugh.
“I’m right? I'm right. You could.”
He takes my helmet. “The time to worry about someone kidnapping and/or killing you isbeforeyou get on their bike.”
“R-Right.”
“Come on.” He climbs off and lifts me up and over the bike. It’s just a couple steps to the edge of the lookout. He sits down and I join him. “A killer-kidnapper wouldn’t bring a picnic. Probably.”
“Picnic?” I ask looking up at his gorgeous face, glowing blue in under the big moon.
“Well”—he digs down into his coat—“picnic may be a stretch.” He pulls out two mini liquor bottles and crackers.
I laugh.
He digs into the other side of his coat producing a candy bar.
I take a bottle and the treat. “The chocolate is a good start, but some personal details would be better. You’re from Boston, is your family still there?”
“They are.”
I shove into his side as I watch the night skiers make their way up and down the mountain. “And? Siblings? Grandparents? Any crazy cousins?”
“Crazy cousins?”
“I might be projecting.”
He almost chuckles. “No siblings, just my mom and grandparents.”
I sip the white wine. “Did your dad die?”
“Took off when I was a kid.”
I look over at him. “I’m sorry.”
He shrugs.
“My mom died when I was thirteen.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah, it sucked.” I try to lighten things back up. “But, I have a big, loving, overbearing family who have all been overcompensating since then.” I shrug and start to unwrap the chocolate. “Did you go to college out there? In Boston?”
“Nope. Straight into the marines.”
“Is that when the tattoos started?”
He lets out a laugh. It’s small, but it’s real.
I love it.
I want to hear it again and again.
“What? Is that a dumb question?”
“It’s an interesting question. Your interest interests me.” He looks down at me. “Doyouhave any tattoos?”
I swallow, fighting the urge to climb onto his lap and kiss that one eyebrow that’s slightly lifted.
