He chuckled lightly, her comment about her being too much for him to handle was funny to him. She didn't seem like she would be that hard to be around. "I've handled bulls and ornery stud colts...so how much more difficult than that can you be?" In fact, he could recall a young colt that nearly killed him. The thing was a ball of fire and anger. Nothing seemed to settle his spirits and it wasn't until he was castrated that Ashton was even able to properly handle the horse. There was just something about this woman in front of him that did not sound like the horse he once was tasked to break.

He tried to be polite, calling her Miss Tate to be respectful, but it seemed as though she didn't quite want all of his manners. He nodded his head with a soft smile. "Alright, then. Malia it is." He certainly would not make her feel uncomfortable or unwelcome. In fact, he wanted quite the opposite. He wanted her to feel relaxed and feel like herself when she was around him. He didn't want her to try to be someone that she wasn't. After all, he didn't plan on doing that to himself either.

When she mentioned that she didn't even know what money was a few months ago, he looked at her curiously. "How have you gone so long without money? You're not a spring chicken, after all." She said her pack gave her everything she needed and he was glad for that. However, the mention of a pack made him feel that yearning for family again. His last pack had been his own family. But after a hurricane whipped out his farm, his family had been forced to go their separate ways. He still missed his family and he hoped that he would have a pack to call his one day.

Her question about if he and his father were close, he couldn't help but nod with a smile. "Yes ma'am...I mean, Malia. We are." He had many fond memories of his father. He was the one who taught him about cows, how to ride horses, how to fish, and how to be the Christian man that he was. His father was someone he wanted to be like one day. He understood that not everyone had a father like his own, but he was happy he had his dad.

Once they had settled out on the dance floor, Ashton tried his best to let go, to find some rhythm in the music. Even though it wasn't something he was quite used to, he was putting in a damn good effort. He asked her if she danced often and her response was typical. Most people found that dancing was a way to let off steam, to lose themselves in the music until nothing else mattered. When she asked him how he let off steam, he thought quietly for a moment. "I usually write novels...or run." He much preferred to run as his canine form. The wind flapping through his ears and jowls were freeing.

The more the danced, the looser he became. His muscles were starting to understand the rhythm she was setting and slowly he began to gain his own momentum. Once she turned back to face him, his hands rested softly on her hips, helping to guide her hips to the rhythm of the music. It was a different experience, that was for sure.

At her request for him to show her what he liked to do for fun, he nodded his head softly and extended his hand to hers. He had an idea and he was happy that he was going to finally be able to show her how to do something different â€" something not everyone enjoyed doing.

He led her back to the bar and paid his tab before he led her from the club and down the street. The place wasn't far, but the nighttime air was crisp and cool. It didn't take but a few hundred feet until they arrived at a place that offered bowling, laser tag, billiards, and had a skating rink. He paid for both of them to have all-access passes before he led her over to the skating rink. "We're going to skate. What's your shoe size?" Tonight would be a night for firsts.