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“I live an active life.”
Paul eyed him shrewdly. “You work a desk job, right?”
I nearly scoffed. Was he honestly taking Hale’s measure? Who did he think he was?
Hale spent a lot of hours seated at a desk, but he had several corner offices and owned numerous companies, many on the Fortune 500 list and a few in the one hundreds. It wasn’t like he was wasting away in some cubical not experiencing the world. Didn’t Elle tell this guy anything about us?
Hale didn’t flinch under his intrusive inspection. “I wouldn’t categorize my career as sedentary. I own several global operations. I’m on the road, at sea, or in the air most days.”
Or in bed with me, I thought smugly.
I swore Paul flexed his arms. “You work for your dad, right?”
Uh-oh.
“No. He and I are associates. I work for myself.” While he corrected Paul’s assumption with straight facts, there was no missing Hale’s disenchantment and thinning patience. Paul was quickly approaching some thin ice.
Wanting a shield, I re-opened the plastic menu that was roughly the size of a pirate map. It parted with a sticky sound that assured Hale would not touch his. To save him the trauma, I angled mine so he could read over my shoulder.
It was time for a subject change. “So, what’s good here? Have you had the mozzarella sticks?”
Crickets.
I turned another sticky page. “Ooh, onion rings. It’s been a minute since I’ve had a good fried onion.”
“Fried foods are loaded with saturated fats. Chances are you’re also getting synthetic food-like ingredients in those over processed options.”
A stiff smile locked on my face. Oh, good, the food police was back. If Paul was opposed to ninety percent of the menu, why the hell did they pick this place?
Hale eyed the condiment caddy like he wanted to drop it into a biohazard container and wash his hands. I patted his thigh. Moments like this really exposed his quirks and I took sympathy on him as much as I enjoyed watching him squirm.
There was a true inner-battle of germaphobia and OCD versus propriety and self-control taking place beside me. But on the outside, he appeared completely unfazed and calm. So very Hale.
“Day-um.” Paul grabbed my hand, nearly yanking me across the table to examine my engagement ring. “How much did that set you back, Davenport?”
Hale went into full reserved gentleman mode and silently met Paul’s stare until the man had the good sense to release my hand. Realizing he overstepped, Paul lowered his gaze.
I hid a smirk behind my enormous menu. Sometimes nature organized itself like that. An alpha’s gonna alpha and a beta’s gonna beta…
Unfortunately, Paul was the type to ramble through his nervousness. “I have a friend that just threw down six G’s on a ring for his girl. You ever see Blood Diamond?”
Oh, thank God, the waitress.
We placed our orders. Hale requested a medium rare steak and I ordered some deliciously homogenized synthetic cheese dipped in lethal frying oil. Elle and Paul ordered rabbit food, sans everything with flavor.
“So how long does this cleanse last? You’ll be eating by the wedding, right?”
“We can send you our list of restrictions,” Paul said and I tensed.
My question had been directed to Elle, since she was an approved guest on our list. But Paul assumed my question included him.
Elle had asked about bringing Paul to the wedding, but I never gave an answer. My mind went to Barrett. How would he react to seeing her with this guy?
Honestly, it might help him get over her. Paul was no competition. If anything, Barrett would see him and feel good about himself. Ugh, I could be so mean.
I remembered I was supposed to be getting to know Paul so he and I could be friends. “Have you ever been to New York, Paul?”
Elle smiled at my effort to take an interest in this man-shaped tit. “We’re coming early to hit some of the sights like the Empire State Building and maybe catch a show at Madison Square Garden.”
