Free To Hold and to Heal (BWWM Interracial Romance) by Naomi Lecroy

“What's the matter? Don't you like games?”
                  She looked out the window at The Arena, a multilevel game-filled complex. She had been there only once, just out of high school but not since. She slipped out of the car into the heavy night air. Alden met her on her side of the car and reached for her hand.
                  “This is our first date. I'm going to buy you dinner and then I'm going to attempt to win enough tickets to get you a stupid stuffed animal,” he whispered into her ear.
                  She looked up into his smiling face. His green eyes were alight with mischief. “The last time I was here, I went bowling,” she said, looking back at the building.
                  He started walking. “We can do that. I'm afraid I’m not very good. But,” he turned to her. “I would love to watch you play. I can keep score.”
                  She felt the heat of a blush run up her cheeks. Damn it! She was always forgetting about his leg. Shaking it off she asked, “How did you even know about this place?”
                  “Found it when I was looking for somewhere to have a drink the other night, but I thought it was a little rowdy for my mood.”
                  She giggled. “So you went to the gayest of gay bars instead?”
                  He smiled. “I thought it would look a little less, I don't know, strange? To be a lonely guy sitting at a bar.”
                  She tilted her head. “You would have fit in perfectly at my bar. Why didn’t you come there?”
                  “I knew where your place was and meeting you was exactly what I was trying to avoid until I was ready.” He held the door open for her letting her hand go as she slipped inside.
                  “And look how well that turned out for you,” she replied.
                  They settled on the fancier of the five restaurants inside of the building. The tables were topped with white tablecloths and candles. Alden pulled her chair out for her before sitting down himself. They ordered quickly and then were left alone.
                  “So, what do you want to know about me?” Nice asked.
                  “Normal stuff,” Alden answered, smiling.
                  She rolled her eyes. “Come on, I don't know what say. Give me specifics.”
                  “You're not very good at this are you?” he asked teasingly.
                  She picked up her water glass and took a sip. “No, I'm not. I don't ever do this. I don't go on dates. I don't have time. That night you met me was the first night I'd been out in like months. So no, I'm not good at this. I'm really bad.”
                  “What do you do for fun?”
                  “Fun? I don't think I do anything for fun. Oh god, I'm so fucking boring!” she cried, dropping her head to her arms. Alden was laughing. “Don't laugh, this is really sad. I have zero personality. I told you I was bad at this.”
                  He reached out for her hand. His eyes were locked on her. “I don't think that. I just don't think anyone has ever asked you.”
                  She felt butterflies in her belly and she squeezed her thighs together against the subtle heat that was gathering between her legs.
                  “Baking!” she suddenly yelled out. “I like to bake. And I’m pretty good at it.”
                  He turned his head to the side, like a dog searching for meaning. “Baking?”
                  “Yeah, I took two whole classes on how to bake and decorate cakes and things when I was younger. With my Mom. I used to do it a lot before Sam passed and my Dad got bad and I had to take over. It's silly, I know. I miss it sometimes.”
                  “Why