Ride It Out Read Online Free

later at Grillers. The hostess looks at us with something that blends disgust and pity into one expression. I’m getting pissed off, and about to tell the bitch we’re here to eat just like everyone else. Just at that moment, Anne goes ahead of me.
    “Hi! We’d like a table for two, please.” Butter wouldn't melt in her mouth and the sweet smile she's giving the hostess makes it seem like she hasn't noticed. Except she's tapping the nail of her index finger against her armrest, something I've noticed she does when she's stressed or not happy.
    I’m not used to having someone take the lead, and it makes me feel like a punk that can’t take care of his date. Wait, is this a date? No, it's just lunch. Damn it, these wheels are a hazard to my manhood. Never would have hesitated before the accident when taking a chick out to lunch, date or not. Get ahold of yourself Hound, you’re still you. Enough of this inner pep talk bullshit, Anne’s already heading for the table .
    The hostess pulls the chairs away and adds them to another table, and Anne gracefully rolls perfectly up to the table. How the hell did she do that? I'm still way uncomfortable with lining up just right. Takes me two times to get situated. The hostess gives us a smirk with the menus and leaves.
    What are the chances of that bitch telling the waiter to spit in our food? That's one of my private little nightmares, but I won't share that with Anne. That brother of hers is already giving her enough to worry about.
    We both look over the menus and talk about what we’d like. Anne decides on a Plain Jane hot dog and fries. For some reason I’m feeling extra hungry so I choose a loaded double decker cheese burger. She lifts one dark brow when I give my order but doesn't say anything.
    Our drinks arrive and though the skinny waiter keeps giving me nasty looks, there are no issues. The little bastard leaves and I turn my attention to Anne and getting to know more about her.
    “So, what do you like to do for fun, other than picking up strange guys that bust into your summer cottage?” I'm trying to hide my smirk but don't quite make it.
    “Haha. Funny. Mostly, I read and listen to music.” The words come out soft and shy. The napkin holder seems to have sprouted a head or something and she's staring at it, running her finger along the edge.
    Impulses usually don't overcome me, but I reached for her hand, needing to feel those delicate fingers in mine. “Music is something I like too. Calms me, you know?” The time in the rehab hospital comes back to grab me. Some days, that little MP3 player was the only thing that brought me through those hours of agonizing therapy. Shit, she said something and I missed it with my little trip down memory lane.
    “Blake? Are you okay?" A worried frown marred her smooth forehead.
    "I'm ok, sorry. Just remembered something." I stroked the pad of her index finger. "What did you say?"
    She turned her hand a little, unconsciously giving me better access. "I asked have you ever been to a concert? It’s a dream of mine. I know it’s silly, but I still want to go.”
    “I’ve been to few concerts, the energy is unbelievable. And no dream is ever silly, Anne.” I lean in and my free hand goes to her cheek, fingers tracing along the contour to the strand of hair that caught my attention. I tuck the hair behind her ear as her eyes flutter closed. It seems I’m affecting her as much as she's getting to me.
    The waiter shoves our food between us. Bastard. I give him the dirty look he deserves.
    Watching Anne eat is something like torture but I can't look away. We talk and eat and I learn more about the music she likes. By the time my huge burger is half gone, I'm stuffed, and she has long since pushed her plate away. I could just sit there and talk about stupid shit with her forever.
    A cough interrupts not so subtly. Grunting, I turn and notice the waiter just standing there, watching us. What the hell? “Something you need,