Come Hell or High Water - Striker x Reader (18+)

12. Shaken

"I'm not gonna lie, Striker. You do know how to treat a lady."

Striker chuckled as he helped me off of Bombproof just outside the inn. He checked a nearby horse trough before loosely tying Bombproof's reins to a post next to it. "It's been my pleasure, darlin'," he said, taking my backpack out of the saddlebag and handing it to me.

It was around midnight by the time we returned to the inn. We had gotten carried away talking and watching the giant orbs of lava over the mountains that we didn't realize how late it was. At some point, a cool evening breeze began toblow, and Striker once again let me borrow his jacket. We talked about food, horses, Miss Daisy and her preserves, work, life, our homes . . . I had noticed at times that he would dodge my questions or try to redirect the conversation, but I didn't press him any further. I told him how I died, and he listened, willing to hold my hand as I spoke through tears. It was odd — he was the first person who didn't show me pity when I told him the story of my death. He treated the matter with an air of respect and care, yes, but not once did he say or do anything that implied a sense of pity. I could count on one hand how many people I'd told about my death, and each time was promptly followed by the other person flashing me a pathetically sullen face and saying, "I'm so sorry." I was tired of the hollow sympathy, and admittedly, to have someone not shower me with I'm sorry 's was a breath of fresh air.

Striker and I gave Bombproof a friendly pat on the shoulder before heading inside. The business in the saloon had long begun to wind down, but there were still a few stragglers scattered here and there. Most were hammered, but a couple were still holding their own. I recognized one customer as the imp who had stepped on my tail the night before. He seemed to recognize me as well, and he winked at me as we passed by. I groaned and rolled my eyes; Striker stepped to my side so that he was between me and the imp.

I followed closely behind Striker while he unlocked the door to our room and walked inside. Closing the door behind me, I couldn't help but smile warmly as he removed his hat and belt. He was in the process of unbuttoning his charcoal vest when he noticed me from his place on the couch. "What?"

I looked down at the wooden floorboards, sheepishly pulling the front of his beige jacket over my chest. "I had a really nice time tonight," I said. "Y'know, on our not-date."

He grinned. "Well, I'm glad you enjoyed yourself."

I shrugged the jacket off my shoulders, my eyes staying glued to the floor as my fingers began to fidget with one of its black tassels. "I, um . . . I was wondering if we could maybe do something like that again tomorrow."

He shrugged nonchalantly and tossed his vest onto the arm of the couch. "You're the boss, darlin'. 'Sup to you where we go."

"Well, that's the thing." I felt butterflies begin to flutter in my stomach. "I was thinking we could do something, with you . . . not as my bodyguard."

He raised his eyebrows, as if his ass was actually surprised I'd ask him out. "So you wanna go on a date-date this time," he said with a smirk.

The heat was rising in my cheeks. "S-Sure, you could call it that," I stammered.

An amused chuckle escaped his throat as he stood and approached me. He leaned forward and rested his arm against the doorframe behind me, lowering his head until it was mere inches from mine. An almost seductive smile crawled onto his face, his gold tooth shining in the lamplight, and he said in a low, gravelly voice, "It'd be my pleasure, darlin'."

My face burned, and the butterflies in my stomach were now rabid beasts threatening to tear their way out. My pulse bounded in my ears as we stared at each other for far too long. His eyes — God, those eyes. Their intense gaze alone was enough to steal the air from my lungs. They stared into mine a moment longer before traveling downward to focus on my lips. His smile had dissolved, and he looked back up into my eyes. He must have seen the yearning in them, because he slowly leaned down until our lips were so close I could feel his breath. Every inch of me was trembling with both fear and desire, and my breath hitched in my chest as I finally made up my racing mind. I closed my eyes and craned my head forward —