Page 29 of Cole (Dirty Misfits MC 4)
Because if I played my cards right with our time, we’d be taking our private walk on the beach around sunset.
“My God,” Molly said with her mouth full, “this food is insanely good. How have I never been here before?”
I chuckled as I stabbed at a piece of crab. “Not a lot of people know this little place exists, and I think they keep it that way for a reason. They have unfettered fishing access on this little stretch of beach land that they sit on, and it makes for some seriously good food. Their fish specials change with the catch every day, and you should eat the kind of shit they can throw down for breakfast.”
She quirked her eyebrow. “Seafood for breakfast?”
I pointed my fork at her. “Trust me, I’ll treat you to it sometime. It’s to fucking die for.”
We kept stealing glances at one another and running our conversations into territory that I had to steer out of, but I didn’t mind. I mean, it wasn’t that I didn’t want to tell her any of this shit, it was just that it wasn’t the kind of shit you told someone on a first date. Eventually, I’d tell her about my PTSD. About my nightmares. About how Opie is really my service dog from the bullshit I saw while I was a combat medic in the army.
But that certainly wasn’t the type of stuff one talked about on a first date.
“So, Appalachian State. That’s on the East Coast, right?” I asked.
Molly nodded as she took a bite of her shrimp scampi. “It is, yes. In the mountains of North Carolina, to be exact.”
“So, what brought you to the West Coast?”
“Oh! I grew up here. In San Diego, actually. I went to North Carolina for college but found my way back after I came up with the plan I’m pursuing now.”
“Nice, nice. How far into saving up are you for this vineyard dream of yours?”
She bounced her head softly before she took another bite of food. “About fifty grand in.”
My eyebrows rose. “That’s pretty impressive.”
She shrugged. “Eh, it’s not nearly the kind of money I need to start this thing. But I figure if I can really knuckle down and keep saving at the rate I am, in another eight years I’ll have the money I need for a down payment for a place. The rest I can loan out like any regular business owner, and then I can get to work.”
“Is the dream still Italy? Because California has some really decent vineyards that have gone downhill in recent years.”
She paused. “Yes, I know. How do you know that?”
I grinned. “A guy can have his secrets, can’t he? The truth of the matter was, I once had a friend-with-benefits situation with a girl that was a wine-o nut. She was constantly making me tag along with her to “wine country.”
She smiled. “I’m familiar with it. I travel up there to treat myself every once in a while. Every year, I treat myself to a weekend there full of wine tastings, touring the properties, and picking the brains of the owners and the parts of their operations that they’re willing to talk about.”
I held out my hand. “See? That shit sounds like a great time. All this chick wanted to do was go, get drunk, make an ass out of herself, then pass out on the floor of our hotel room.”
“How unadventurous of her. The least she could do is fall asleep right on that dick, you know?”
I almost choked on my food as I laughed. “Took the words right out of my mouth.”
Dinner was effortless, and I had never experienced something like that before. We kept talking and eating. We sat there long enough to get ourselves in the mood for coffee and dessert. And by the time I settled the tab, the sun was in its prime position.
So, I whisked Molly away to our final destination.
“Where are we headed now!?” she exclaimed over the wind rushing around us.
I love the way she clings to me. “We’re going to go work down our food with a nice walk on the beach! It’s almost sunset. How’s that sound!?”
She pressed her cheek against my back. “Sounds perfect, Cole.”
I smiled the entire way to the beach I had in mind. We pulled off the highway and I inched my bike down a narrow road that led directly into a white patch of sand with its own private beach. Even though there were cars whizzing ahead of us, the alcove of the beach acted like a sound-filtering mechanism that only allowed the people standing in its wake to enjoy the sounds of the ocean while blocking out the sounds from above, and I loved it. This place was my safe spot. My haven for when my soul needed rest. And as I spread my leather jacket onto the sand, I took Molly’s hand and we both sat down.
