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Somehow, I was more than a little okay with that.
Except, of course, her trying to pay the bill.
I reached over her shoulder, plucking it out of her hand, and passing it to the server at the register.
“What do you think—“ she started, but I ignored her objections as I slid money to the waitress. “Keep the change,” I told her, watching her brighten at having a solid thirty-dollar tip on a dead shift.
“Is this a problem too?” she asked, leaning against the door, holding it open for me.
“Nope,” I said, grabbing it over her head, then waving for her to keep moving. “No problem at all.”
“So the whole ‘mobsters are gentlemen’ thing is not all bullshit, huh?” she asked.
“Depends on the guy, I guess,” I said, placing a hand behind her back, but not quite touching her.
“What are you doing?”
“Guiding you back to the truck,” I explained.
“Why?” she asked, suspicious.
“To give you a ride home.”
“I can walk.”
“I’m sure you can. But I’m still going to drive you.”
“I have to go walk my dog first.”
“I got time,” I said, walking her toward the truck. “No ulterior motive here,” I said as she eyed me when I opened the passenger door for her. “We have a common goal here. It’s in my best interest to make sure some pissed off Czech guy doesn’t gun you down on your way home.”
“Fine,” she agreed, but I could have sworn there was a little smile on her lips as she climbed up into the truck.
Two small smiles in under an hour.
Imagine what I could do with a full day with her.
CHAPTER SIX
Saylor
“Are you saying there is a problem with a man being a gentleman?” my mother asked as she feinted right while I struck out, my glove-covered hand meeting air instead of her chest that I’d been aiming at.
“I’m not saying there’s anything—fuck,” I exhaled as her hit got me in the gut. I backed up a few steps, circling around her. “I’m not saying there’s anything wrong with it. It’s just weird.”
“I think, my dear, you only think it’s wrong because you’re used to dating dickheads,” she said. She was too excited to get a reaction out of me to pay attention to my posture as I struck out, hitting her hard enough to send her back a step.
“I mean, that’s… fair,” I agreed. I’d never dated a man that anyone would ever accuse of having good manners. “Though, I’ve never really been one for dating in general,” I added as she took a step back, leaning against the ropes of the ring, watching me with eyes so similar to mine that it was almost freaky.
I mean, if it wasn’t for a few crows feet around her eyes and a little less fullness in her cheeks, we could practically pass for sisters.
She’d even managed to keep a figure almost identical to mine, despite being able to out-eat me at the table of any restaurant at any time of day.
Though I imagined it helped that she owned a gym. Complete with a boxing ring, since that was something she’d been passionate about my whole life. Mostly because she’d met my father at a boxing match when she was all of nineteen years old.
“Seems to be a family trait,” I added, watching as she pulled off her gloves to reach up and tighten her ponytail.
“What is?”
