Part 9 (1/2)
He leaned into me and wrapped his hand around mine that was sitting on the table.
”Pot is legal in Colorado,” he stated and I tilted my head.
”It is?”
He stared at me a second then grinned. ”Yeah, baby, it is.”
G.o.d, I liked it when he called me baby.
”Don't you vote?” he asked.
”Well, yeah,” I answered.
”Straight ticket?” he guessed.
”Well, no,” I told him. ”But all the referendums freak me out. I used to try to understand them, then one year I voted for one and found out after that I voted the wrong way because they made the language purposefully confusing so you thought you were voting for one thing and you weren't. I went back and read and reread it and there was no way I knew what I was voting for. That's dirty business, so I decided that I should vote only on things I totally understood instead of making another mistake like that because, well, you know, these things affect people's lives and you shouldn't screw up something that important. As none of the referendums make a lick of sense to me, I concentrate on the candidates and hope they'll take care of the referendums.”
”Makes sense. Whacked sense but it makes it,” he murmured.
”What does pot being legal have to do with Bodhi and Heather?” I asked, though I had to admit, this was good news and nice to know why the Sherriff didn't get into Bodhi's business.
”I voted against legalizing pot,” Raiden declared, and I got it.
”Oh,” I replied.
”I'm good with live and let live, but s.h.i.+t like that bleeds into bigger s.h.i.+t, and no one needs that.”
”I don't smoke it, but I know both Bodhi and Heather and they're really nice people. And I'm not sure something like that bleeds. It's a personal choice and it isn't like crystal meth or stuff like that that destroys lives.”
”It is when it bleeds,” he returned.
His eyes were now weirdly sharp, so much so it was uncomfortable, and I squirmed in my chair.
”Okay,” I gave in. ”I'm guessing you know more about this than I do.”
”Unfortunately, I do,” Raiden replied.
I bit my lip again, intrigued if a little frightened.
I carefully tugged my hand from his and looked to the corner of the table.
”Hanna,” he called and I turned my gaze to him.
”Bodhi and Heather are my friends,” I told him.
”I know,” he replied.
”Well, I, uh... spend time with them.”
”I know.”
”How do you know?” I asked.
”Saw you with the guy. Wasn't hard to read you were tight. And, again, small town. A couple of questions, links you to the girl too.”
Links me to the girl?
What a weird way to put it.
I shook that off and pressed on, ”Well, this is a, um, date, and if this goes, uh... well, then...”
”This goes further, I will not hang with them,” he declared firmly, and I stared.
”You don't like people that much who smoke pot?” I asked.
”Not that. Got friends who smoke. Don't give a s.h.i.+t. Don't like it, but it doesn't say anything about them except they're into something I'm not into. Just don't got a good feeling about those two.”
”They're kind and funny.”
He leaned toward me. ”They give me a bad feeling, Hanna. They don't give you that same feeling, cool. But this date goes well, we go further, I will not hang with them. Straight up. No bulls.h.i.+t. You're into me, I'm into you, but that does not mean I gotta be into all your friends and the same goes for you.”
I had to admit, that was fair.
”Okay,” I agreed.
”And I'm not sayin' that s.h.i.+t knowin' how into me you are, layin' down the law. I mean it. You connect with my people, you aren't into them, same goes for you.”
That was nice.
”Okay,” I stated more resolutely, then asked (yes, stupidly), ”How into you do you think I am?”
”Honey, you crawled around on all fours in a pet store, totally unable to cope with bein' in my s.p.a.ce. You're seriously into me.”
This was true and this should have mortified me.
It didn't.
For some reason, it annoyed me.
I narrowed my eyes at him. ”It's kind of annoying you figured that out, and more annoying you keep bringing it up.”
To this he threw his handsome head back, burst out laughing and held my hand tight for a second.
Then his hold loosened and he lifted our hands so our elbows were on the table, our hands up between us, but he again leaned into me.
This time super-close.
Which meant he was pressing my hand into his hard chest.