Page 13 of Zombie's Howl-O-Ween
“Were you really watching me the whole time I’ve been here?”
“Yes.”
“But why would you ignore me?” Admittedly, my heart hurt a bit knowing he’d seen me and had done nothing. He just let me wander around by myself.
Duh, he always ignores you at the deli so why would it be any different tonight?
Excellent point.
He went to his closet and put his costume gear on the shelf, then went to the other side of the closet, where he had a mini fridge. Brilliant! He took out a couple of beers and handed me one.
“Thanks.” I popped the top and sipped it. Beer wasn’t my thing, but I was a hot, panting mess so this would do.
Mmm, cold and refreshing.
Brandon sat on the edge of his bed and guzzled his beer. His icy-blue eyes landed on me, and he checked me out from head to toe.
I stood taller so he could get his fill, fighting hard not to cower to his roaming gaze. I wasn’t usually self-conscious about my weight and curves. People either liked me the way that I was or not. I honestly didn’t care.
But this man. This perfect specimen of masculinity and his muscular body made me question everything about myself… For a split second.
Reality was, Brandon wanted me here. He’d even carried me the entire way.
And because of his bold actions, I would stand fucking proud and confident in my curvy body!
I had a million questions I wanted to ask about him, his club, and me. But I sensed if I let my mouth run wild, I would overwhelm him, then he’d probably kick me out of his bedroom.
So, totally uncharacteristic of me, I remained silent and waited for him.
“You make me nervous.” Finally, he spoke, and his words were not at all what I’d been expecting.
“I don’t mean to.” God, I felt awful hearing that I made him nervous. It wasn’t like I hadn’t noticed how he withdrew at different times in the deli. Talk about being an insensitive, pushy witch. Damn, I was angry with myself right now.
“It’s not your fault. You just make me feel certain ways I’ve never felt before.”
His honesty was endearing. Wow…
Keep quiet, Trix. Let him lead the conversation.
“And I’m worried about your age. Six years is a lot. What would your parents say?”
“Brandon, I’m a grown woman. They would respect my decision. And six years isn’t that much.” Why was he hung up onour age difference? There were plenty of couples with larger age gaps than six years.
“Growing up, I used to hear my mom say how three years age difference was perfect for a long, happy marriage. I believe her. Her and my dad never fight and love each other.”
“And that’s great, but I’m sure if you told her about me, she would give us her blessing.” I couldn’t see why his mom wouldn’t like me. Everybody did, but then again, people were strange and had their reasons as to why they liked and didn’t like others.
But more than that, why did his mother’s opinion matter so much? It was sweet to respect her, but our age difference wasn’t so bad. Was it?
“I can’t ask her.” He gulped what was left of his beer, then tossed the can toward his closet.
“Why not?” I tilted my head to get a better view of his face. He seemed a little sad. Maybe I should change the direction of our conversation. The topic and negative energy surrounding us was bringing me down and I could tell it was doing the same to Brandon.
“We don’t talk anymore. My parents kicked me out a long time ago. We’ve talked a few times, but it never ends well. They don’t like that I’m in a MC.”
Oh shit.
This was the most I’d ever heard him speak at one time. I honestly didn’t know he had it in him. Maybe it was because we were on his turf.
