Chapter Eight

His touch was feathery soft, a sharp contrast to his hard features. Beneath that exterior was a tender, almost vulnerable part of him she'd never seen before.

He looked bad, well as bad as someone like him could possibly look. With his roughly tousled hair and stubby chin, he still looked better than any man she'd seen.

"What do you mean?" She asked, frowning a little. This man had insulted her, she reminded herself.

He stared at her for a long moment, without saying anything. He looked down to where both their hands were still entangled together, neither making any moves to remove it.

"I'll get the menu." She said and left as fast as she could.

She sifted through a few of the piles of books she'd already been packing, in search of the menu when she felt a presence.

"I just wanna talk." He said, his voice deeper than usual, making her stomach turn.

"About?" She answered as casually as she could. She was a bundle of nerves inside and she'd be damned if he even got as much as a whif