Unfinished Hero - Raid Part 8

"Chilton's," Raiden answered.

My nerves came back.

Even though Chilton's opened a town over ten years ago, I'd only been there once, the year before when my brother came from San Diego for a visit and brought his new fiancee with him.

The menu was a la carte. The cheapest steak was fifty dollars.

I didn't know what Raiden did for a living, but I did know that even with twenty new boutiques I was s.h.i.+pping my afghans to, Chilton's once every ten years was about as much as many people could afford. Including me.

So I wondered what he did for a living, and therefore wondered if he could afford Chilton's. I also wondered what I should order since there was no way I was ordering a la carte, building on the foundation of a fifty dollar steak if I didn't know how deep that would cut into his wallet.

"Mood in the Jeep suddenly veered south," he remarked.

I looked at him. "Sorry?"

"You don't seem fired up about Chilton's," he noted.

"Um, I am, of course. I've been there once before. It's really nice but it's..." What did I say? "Not exactly cheap."

"You bought me a s.e.xy dress, least I can do."

I stared, my mouth dropping open.

Then I snapped it shut to ask, "How did you know this is a new dress?"

He glanced at me, back at the road, then his lips turned up. "Didn't. Guessed. Now I do."

I was totally an idiot.

I proved this more when I looked forward again, mumbling stupidly (but he probably figured it out already), "I also bought new shoes."

My entire body went hot when he briefly touched the skin below my skirt at my knee and rumbled, "Appreciated, honey."

Okay, maybe I wasn't an idiot, and at that moment I knew without a doubt that regardless of how expensive they were the dress and shoes were worth every penny.

"Don't worry about dinner," he stated.

"Okay," I replied.

"Order what you want," he went on.

"Righty ho."

Raiden chuckled.

At the rumbling, masculine sound, the area between my legs got wet.

We lapsed into silence, which was both uncomfortable and oddly a relief, seeing as I would have been more uncomfortable if I had further opportunities to make a fool of myself.

We hit Chilton's and the valet helped me out of the car. Raiden rounded the Jeep, gave the valet his keys and then claimed me by grabbing my hand Holding hands, I walked into Chilton's with Raiden Miller.

The date was twenty minutes old, if that, and it already had crazily veering ups and downs for me emotionally, but we hit an extreme up when we walked into Chilton's.

Or, for me, it was walking into Chilton's hand in hand with Raiden Miller.

The place, no matter how expensive, was packed. I saw two people I knew at whom I smiled.

But best of all, they saw me. They saw me hand in hand with Raiden.

My other three boyfriends, obviously, I'd liked. I thought they were attractive. I enjoyed spending time with them.

But never was I overwhelmingly proud to be at their side anywhere like I was right then with Raiden.

We were seated at a two top with Raiden at my side rather than across from me. We also ordered drinks, got them and ordered our meals, all this without incident.

So my nerves were again smoothing out as I took a sip of red wine and felt Raiden's eyes on me.

I looked at him and the instant my eyes. .h.i.t his, he asked, "You know my name?"

That was such a strange question, I felt my head give a slight jerk and I asked back, "Do I know your name?"

"Yeah, honey. Been around you now a few times, you've not once said my name."

"You're Raiden Miller, Rach.e.l.le's big brother," I told him and, for some bizarre reason, that made him burst out laughing.

It was gorgeous, lush. It warmed me through and through, and I smiled while he did it, but I didn't understand it.

When it started waning, I said, "I don't get it. Why are you laughing?"

He trained his amazing eyes on me. "Rache would love that. She's always been Raiden's little sister."

My smile died and I leaned toward him. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to be offensive."

He leaned toward me. "Me laughin', baby, how could you mistake that for me takin' offense?"

Again, I was an idiot.

"I can sometimes be an idiot," I offered as an understatement.

"Don't know about an idiot. Do know you can more than sometimes be all kinds of cute."

I bit my lip.

I liked that.

His eyes dropped to my mouth and he rumbled, "Like now."

I liked that, too.

I let my lip go.

"Girls prefer to be s.e.xy and hot and, maybe, mysterious," I informed him, and his eyes came back to mine.

"You got the first two down, Hanna. And I don't know about other men, but I've played games, and in the end found out what I won wasn't worth the trouble of winning. Prefer to be with a woman who's cute and shy and obviously into me. Means I can save time and get straight to s.h.i.+t that matters."

What he said was nice, way nice, especially the first part, but still, I felt heat hit my face. My head jerked down and I adjusted my napkin in my lap, murmuring, "This is kind of embarra.s.sing."

"What?" he asked, and I forced myself to look at him.

"You knowing I'm into you. That's embarra.s.sing. I suppose it's obvious, but it's still embarra.s.sing."

He reached toward my hand, engulfed it in his big one and brought them up to rest our clasped hands on the table.

"Honey, get me," he said gently, his eyes moving over my face, my hair, my chest then back to mine when he finished, "I wouldn't have said it if I thought you'd be embarra.s.sed about it, but bottom line, you got not one thing to be embarra.s.sed about."

I hoped he was right.

"Okay," I whispered.

"Afghans," he stated and I blinked.

"Sorry?"

"Those things were gorgeous, I did not lie, but Hanna, how the f.u.c.k do you make a living outta knittin' afghans?"

He was changing the subject.

That was nice.

Yes, he got better and better.

"I sell in two hundred and twenty-three shops all over the US and export to some boutiques in Canada."

His brows went up before he asked, "No s.h.i.+t?"

I shook my head.

"f.u.c.king h.e.l.l," he muttered.

I nodded my head and continued.

"It was less, but earlier this year I stepped things up. Now I have a girl. I think you might know her, Heather. She helps me out, packs them for s.h.i.+pping. I used to do it, but with the new shops I need more time to make them, so she does it for me. I have a kind of warehouse slash kitchen over the gift shop in town. My inventory is there, she does the packing there, and when fruit is in season I make my preserves there. She hasn't been with me very long, but she says she's going to help with the preserves when I do them. They're kind of..." I struggled for a word that wouldn't make me sound like I was bragging and settled on, "exclusive. I only do them when fruit is in season so they aren't on the shelves all the time. It ratchets up the prices and they don't stay in stock for long seeing as most people buy them in bulk so they have them all year."

His face got a strange funny look when I mentioned Heather, but he quickly rearranged it. He sat back while I kept talking, but did it continuing to hold my hand.

"Impressive," he remarked when I went quiet.

"It's preserves and blankets," I replied.

"You live in a cute house, drive a sweet ride, ride a cute bike and wear great clothes. You do all that outta preserves and blankets, over two hundred shops in two countries. Honey, that's impressive."

"Okay," I decided to agree, and he grinned at me.

The waiter came with bread. Raiden unfortunately let my hand go and reached for the basket.

He offered it to me (totally getting better and better, I mean, hot, cool and a gentleman!).

I took a roll as he asked, "Why did you step things up?"

I shrugged, broke my roll to b.u.t.ter it, and explained evasively (because I certainly wasn't going to tell him the real reason), "I don't know. Just one day it hit me. My life was kind of narrow. I enjoyed it, but I wanted more." I spread b.u.t.ter on my bread and looked at him. "To get more, go on vacation, learn to s...o...b..ard, you need money. I was doing okay, but I needed to do better. So I worked harder." I tipped my head to the side. "Now I do better."

"So your girl, she does all your s.h.i.+pping for you?"

I nodded. "I haven't been to my place in town in, gosh, I don't know. Weeks now, at least. She even comes out to the house to pick up the afghans I've done and takes them into town. She's a huge help. Especially with more orders, helping out Grams and all."

I took a bite of my b.u.t.tered roll.

Delicious.

I chewed, swallowed and watched Raiden take a sip from his beer. I liked how his throat worked when he did that, so I decided more conversation was in order so I didn't obsess about how beautiful his throat was, or more accurately what that throat might taste like.

I just didn't know what conversation to make.

I wanted to ask what he did for a living, but I was too nervous. It seemed pushy and intrusive, regardless of the fact he asked about my business. I just felt that for a man, and a man like him especially, it was something he needed to share in his way at his time.

I also wanted to ask about something else that had been kind of bugging me since he mentioned it. I didn't think it was a safer topic, but I did think it was the safer of the two.

Still, I went in cautiously.

"Can I ask you something?"

He put his beer down and trained his eyes to me. "Yeah."

I put my roll on my bread plate and looked at him. "I'm guessing you know Heather and Bodhi since you mentioned them."

"Small town and two characters like that don't go unnoticed," he replied.

I nodded, thinking his statement was a little weird of the not-good variety, but I pushed myself to keep going.

"If I'm not wrong, you were referring to them when you called them potheads."

"You're not wrong because they are potheads," Raiden responded.

They were.

Still.

"That's kind of, uh..." I cast my mind for a word, couldn't find one so I went for it, "mean."