What's Left of Me (15 page)

“You don’t know how?”

“No.”

“Really?”

“Yes, really.”
 
I laugh at the silliness of the conversation I started.
 
It almost makes me want to add, “But, I do know how to ride a stick,” just to see what he would say.

“I’ll teach you.
 
It’s really easy once you get the hang of it.”

Parker speeds off and I have to brace myself by placing my hands on the black dashboard.
 
I’ve never been in a sports car before, and watching as he zips in and out of cars, shifting as he does, makes me wonder why I never have, because the thrill of speed is an addictive high.

Once we get to a comfortable speed, I ask, “What kind of car is this, anyway?”

The interior is black with small accents of red on the outer edges of the seats.
 
The back only has enough space to fit a large child or small adult.
 
It does not look comfortable.
 
The only thing that would make this car better would be a moon roof.
 
I love the feeling of the wind blowing over my body as if I’m weightless.

“Scion FR-S.
 
They came out June of last year.
 
I’ve wanted one since they were announced.
 
This baby was my graduation present to myself.”
 
Baby?
 
Why is it men have to refer to their toys as babies?
 
It’s something I may never understand.

“Some present.”

He grins as he changes lanes.
 
“What do you drive?” he asks, giving me a quick glance before turning back to the road.

“I have a Jeep Wrangler.
 
Hard top.
 
I had to beg my parents for it.
 
My dad wanted me to get something simple. He said my Wrangler would be too dangerous if I got into an accident.”

“But you got your way,” he says matter-of-factly.
 
It’s not
 
a question, so I don’t answer it.

“We went camping one summer and someone in the group had a purple one.
 
I’d just gotten my permit, so she let me drive it.
 
It was a manual, and I didn’t get far.”
 
I laugh at the memory.
 
“She eventually got tired of me riding her clutch, so she took over.
 
When my sister took me to look at cars I found one that was an automatic and didn’t even look at anything else.”

“I like those.
 
They’re good for off-roading.”

“Yeah, it’s been good to me.”
 
And it has, considering it’s a 1999 and has well over one hundred thousand miles.

Parker turns on his MP3 player and rap music plays through the speakers.

“Is this okay?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.”
 
I’m not really into rap.
 
Well, some is okay, but if I had my choice I would stick with pop music.

“I didn’t peg you as someone who would like rap,” I say over the song.
 
It’s not very explicit, and maybe he chose this particular song for that reason.

“No?
 
It’s my favorite.
 
Well, I should say, old school rap.
 
After that, it’s all pop rap.”
 
Pop rap?
 
Is that even a genre?

“Who is considered pop rap?”

“Pretty much anything on the radio these days.
 
I like 2Pac, Too Short, Dr. Dre, the good stuff.”

“Dr. Dre is actually why Genna calls me Dre.”
 
I laugh.

“Really?”
 
He raises one eyebrow with a hint of amusement.

“Yeah.
 
When I was a kid I wanted to be a doctor. Genna started calling me Dr. Dre like the rapper, which eventually got shortened to Dre.
 
She’s called me it ever since.
 
It’s rubbed off on my family and friends as well.”

“And you don’t want to be a doctor now?”

“No.
 
Too much school.”
 
I let out a small laugh, which causes him to grin at me.

I stopped wanting to be a doctor after my cancer came back the second time.
 
All I ever wanted was to help people and make them feel better, but when my cancer came back, I realized that doctors can’t always make people better.
 
I didn’t want that on my conscience.

The drive isn’t that long, considering the lack of traffic and Parker’s serious speeding problem.

We make it to the arena well before the scheduled start time. I look at all the people walking around in Wild jerseys.
 
It’s fun to see the fans come out and show their support, even for a small thing like this.

After parking in a private lot, we make our way through a separate entrance into the building.
 
Parker moves his hand to my lower back, guiding me through the doors, much like our first night together.
 
He doesn’t try to grab my hand, which I’m thankful for, but his proximity in our suite doesn’t go unnoticed.

Parker makes the afternoon all the more enjoyable by keeping our conversation light and playful.
 
He doesn’t press me for any information but my thoughts on the game.

We cheer on the team and laugh together at the silliness of the fans between the periods.
 
Just like in season games, the announcer picks fans at random and asks them trivia questions.
 
It’s fun to shout out our answers together and laugh when we each say something different.

When couples pop up on the screen for the kiss cam, I point and giggle.
 
I didn’t know they do the kiss cam at scrimmages.
 
Still laughing, I see my face … and Parker’s … on the screen.

I stop laughing.

I look between Parker and the screen, mouth wide.
 
You have got to be kidding me!
 
Parker runs a finger lightly down my cheek before it lands on my chin, pulling my face to look at him.

“What?” I whisper.
 
I know what.

I watch in slow motion as he puts his lips to mine in one of the shortest, sweetest, most
perfect
kisses.
 
My eyes close at the softness of his lips.
 
With my heart pounding and ears about to explode from the burst of applause, I open them when he releases me.
 
We don’t say anything.
 
Instead, we turn our attention back to the ice, where I focus on not wanting to kiss him again.

Parker takes me to a little Italian restaurant that I’ve never heard of.
 
There are only about twenty tables and a small patio out back.
 
Parker asks to be seated outside being it’s still warm.

I can hear my stomach growl at the smell of garlic bread as we make our way to the table.
 
Parker comes behind me, pulling out my chair. “What kind of gentleman would I be if I didn’t pull out your chair?”

“Do friends pull out their friends’ chairs?” I ask in return.
 
Or open doors?

“This friend does.”

The patio has two other occupied tables, but we’re seated against the railing that separates the patio from the sidewalk.
 
There is some soft music playing through the speakers and I’m thankful for the casualness of the place.
 
The hostess sets down our menus and takes our drink orders.

“Can I see a wine list, please?”

“Of course,” the pretty redhead says, grinning at Parker.

“I’ll have water for now, please.”

I pick up my menu, glancing at it quickly.
 
At this point I’ll take anything after smelling that bread.
 
Scanning the menu quickly, I settle on chicken marinara over pasta.

Closing my menu, I set it back on the table and look up at Parker who is still reading over his.

“You already know what you want?” he asks.

“I’m easy to please.”
 
Immediately, I regret saying that, but the look on Parker’s face when he meets my eyes shows he doesn’t regret the words that just left my mouth.

“Well, lucky for you I like to please, so it looks like my day just got better.”

Cocky.
 
I can’t help but smirk and roll my eyes at his boldness.

“Parker…”

“Yes?”

“Friends.
 
Remember?”

“Of course. But that doesn’t mean I can’t work at changing your mind.”

The waitress introduces herself, setting down two waters and a small plate of lemons.

Parker tells her we’re ready to order before she walks away.

Crossing my arms, I bring them to rest on top of the table and lean on it, looking directly at Parker. “Okay, I think it’s about time I learn about you.
 
What are
you
interested in, Dr. Parker Jackson?”
 
His full name falls from my lips playfully.

“You.”

I was not expecting that answer.

I cock my head to the side. “I’m serious.”

“Me too.”

I can tell by his stern expression that he is serious, and suddenly I’m hot.
 
It’s annoying how one look can make me feel as if I’m lying on hot coals.

I take a deep sigh before grabbing my water and bringing it to my lips, letting the coldness soothe my tight throat.
 
I feel like the canopy roof we’re under is collapsing in on us, making it difficult to breathe.
 
I don’t know why I’m so nervous.
 
I slept with this man, for goodness’ sake, yet I can’t even have a normal conversation with him!

He winks at me and instantly the heat makes its way to my cheeks.
 
He’s toying with me, and I know he knows the effect he has on me.

“All joking aside, I love animals, as you already know.
 
I’ve wanted to be a veterinarian since I was a kid.
 
I grew up on a hobby farm with a lot of horses, so originally I wanted to be a large animal vet.
 
In college, I started doing a lot of volunteering at the Humane Society and changed my mind to small animals.
 
Umm, what else?
 
I like to golf, although I’m not any good.
 
My favorite color is green.
 
I’m into martial arts—mainly Brazilian jiu-jitsu, not Tae Kwan Do. There is a big difference.
 
I’m into cars.”
 
He winks before adding, “I like piña coladas and getting lost in the rain.”
 
He grins at the last part.

I laugh at his silliness. I love the fact that he’s able to make me laugh.
 
It feels as if lately Jean is the only one who can get that out of me.

He starts to laugh with me. “What?
 
I’m not ashamed of my sensitive side.”

This causes me to laugh harder.
 
“Okay, Romeo.”

Calming our laughter, Parker takes a small sip of his red wine before continuing our conversation.
 
“Tell me more about you.”

“Oh, no you don’t, buddy.
 
This is supposed to be about you.
 
You already got your interview questions in.”

Parker leans back in his chair, interlocking his fingers before bringing his hands behind his head, stretching his body outward.
 
I watch attentively, which causes him to break out in his charming smile,
again
.

This man knows how to use his smile.
 
It’s perfect.
 
His teeth are perfect in color and alignment.
 
It’s no wonder he is always grinning.
 
I would too, if I had a smile like his.

“I grew up just outside of West Palm Beach in a town called Jupiter.
 
I have one brother who is younger, but I’m better looking.”
 
He offers another wink then adds, “I wasn’t planning on coming to Minnesota, but I’m glad I did.”
 
I silently swear at the blush that takes over my chest, creeping up my cheeks.

“How old are you?” I ask.
 
I’ve wondered this since I first met him.

“Twenty-seven.”

I nod my head in approval.
 
I’m surprised a twenty-seven year old is able to buy into a company and become partner, especially right after graduating, but I remember what Genna told me about his family having money.

Our food is brought out and we both dig right in.
 
I’m not shy about my eating habits.
 
I’m not the type of girl to order a salad because she’s afraid of the guy she’s with seeing her eat, and I don’t drink anything that says diet.
 
If a guy doesn’t like the way you eat, then he was never that into you.

As I take another bite of my chicken, I watch as Parker cuts into his lasagna.
 
It looks so good, filled with layers of cheese.