Page 16 of My Ex-Military Biker

"No need, I’ll give them back! I'll just wash them first."

"Don't need to."

She looks at me. Studies my face for a moment like she's trying to figure something out.

"You're very direct," she says.

"That a problem?"

"No. It's just different."

"Different from what?"

She thinks about how to answer that, and takes another sip of water.

"Different from someone spending twenty minutes saying what could be said in two," she says finally.

Fair enough.

She sets the glass down and I watch her hand on the counter.

"What do you normally do at night?" she asks.

The question catches me off guard.

"What?"

"It's eight-thirty on a Tuesday. What would you normally be doing right now if I wasn't here?"

I think about it. "Reading. Or working on the bike if something needs fixing. Sometimes I'm at the clubhouse."

"But not tonight."

"No. Not tonight."

She nods like this makes sense.

"What would you be doing?" I ask.

"If I'd gotten married today?"

"Yeah."

"I'd be at the reception. First dance would've happened around seven. Dinner at seven-thirty. We'd probably be doing the cake cutting right about now. Tyler would be making a speech about how he knew I was the one after our third date."

"Was he right?"

"What?"

"Did he know you were the one?"

She looks at me, and her expression grows heavier.

"I don't think he knew me at all," she says quietly.

The honesty in that hits different than I expected.

"His loss," I say.