After an additional thirty seconds of silence, Demi breaks it. “I placed a tray of homemade lasagnas in the oven when I arrived, but they need another thirty or so minutes. I could whip you up something if you have time to kill?”
I nod like she invited me to her place for a nightcap. “I’ve got nowhere important to be.”
Her eyes fall to my watch that shows I’m due to arrive at a fight in the basement of a college library forty miles from here in a little over an hour before she returns them to my face. “Are you sure about that, Ox? From what I’ve heard, your Thursday nights are booked until New Year’s, and your Fridays may soon follow them.”
I twist my lips, not surprised she knows my fighting name and oddly turned on by it. “Who did you hear that from?”
I’m acting coy, and Demi knows it. Her cousin organizes the college circuit held every Thursday in local colleges, and he ‘owns’ a handful of fighters in the Friday night statewide feature his father runs each week. She knows what’s been occupying my time for the past seven months because her family is very much a part of it. That’s why I was hesitant with my comment earlier today. My ego wouldn’t let me believe she was only glancing my way because she wanted to shift my fight schedule from Thursdays to Fridays as her cousin has been endeavoring to do the past couple of months, but it has occasionally led me astray, so I had to listen to the rational side of my brain for a change.
“No one important,” Demi eventually replies, her tone honest.
When I scoot to the edge of my chair, the cuffs on the sports jacket I tossed over my gym clothes ride up past my wrists. I’m underdressed to dine in a restaurant, but I didn’t want to travel home just to change my clothes. The sooner I arrived here, the faster I’d learn how badly I shoved my foot into my mouth. I can’t take back what I said, but I can assure I don’t make the same mistake twice.
“My schedule is set by importance.” I scan Demi’s beautiful face and big blue eyes while muttering, “Thisis important.”
By this, I mean her.
Fortunately for me, Demi has no issues reading between the lines. With a smile that advocates my earlier stuff-up has been wiped clean, she says, “I’ll be out with your meal as soon as possible.”
Her steps away slow when I offer, “Then perhaps I can give you a ride home?”
The whisps of almost black hair fanning her gorgeous face slap her cheeks when she whips back around to face me. The rest of her glossy locks are pulled off her face in a high ponytail, enhancing the elegance of her long neck. “That’s hours away, Maddox.”
I shrug before sinking into my chair. “As I said earlier, I amexactlywhere I’m meant to be.”
Demi tries to reel in the happiness beaming across her face. I hope she has no wish to become an actor. Her skills are less than impressive.
After a couple of seconds of silent deliberations, she warns, “Don’t drink the water. It’s most likely laced with laxatives.” When my brows scrunch, her smile shines brighter than the moon on a cloudless night. “Ty can be a tad bit jealous. He’d rather you spend the night on the toilet than in my bed.”
Her reply has my emotions unsure which way to swing. I want to remove Ty’s smug grin with my fists, but I’m smiling just as smugly, stoked as fuck he too could feel the sexual chemistry bristling between Demi and me even with him only being in our monarchy for a couple of seconds. It makes me confident I made the right decision putting Demi before my fight tonight.
My eyes shoot back to Demi when she says, “By the way, Ty is gay. He isn’t saving me from you, Maddox. He’s saving you for himself.”
After hitting me with a frisky wink, loving my gaped jaw, she saunters back into the kitchen with the spring her step was missing when she left me gobsmacked only an hour ago.
4
Maddox
“How was your meal?”
I raise my eyes from my spotlessly clean plate to Demi. Even with her spending a majority of the past two hours in the kitchen, the electricity brewing between us is at an explosive point. The restaurant is full of patrons, so the floor staff enters and exits the kitchen every couple of minutes. Without fail, my eyes forever land on Demi’s between the swings of the door. She also hand-delivered my specially-crafted meal, so my stalker watch hasn’t just occurred from afar. It has also been front and center for the world to see.
After propping her slim hip onto the chair across from mine, Demi says, “You’ll be pleased to know it was snail free. I slipped them into Mr. Mosey’s dish after he complained the tomato paste wasn’t tomatoey enough for him.”
After laughing at her comment, I show her my spotless plate. “I think my plate speaks on my behalf, but in case it doesn’t, my meal was so delicious, I licked the fucker clean.” I grimace when my swear word gains me the stink eye of a group of elderly ladies on my right. “Sorry. My mom often threatens to wash my mouth out with soap. She just can’t bring herself to do it. I could be the biggest asshole in the world, but she’llneversee it.”
“If swearing is the worst thing you’ve done, I understand your mom’s objective.” After gathering up my dirty dishes like she’s one of the waitstaff, Demi locks her eyes with mine. “Dessert?”
I could be completely off the mark, but I swear her question is laced with hidden innuendo.
Always willing to push the boundaries, I test the theory. “What’s on the menu?”
There’s no doubt about my assumption when my gravelly reply causes Demi to pull her knees together. It’s the same heated, knee-knocking response she gave when I banded my arm around her waist earlier today.
After spotting my grin no amount of salt could tarnish, Demi balances my dirty dishes in one hand before she thrusts a dessert menu into my face. “You can pick something scrumptious off this…”
People who haven’t watched her for as long as I have could mistake her pause as allowing me the chance to reply. I’m not close to reaching that conclusion. She wants to say more, but she’s forever cautious she is about to make a mistake. It’s very much a Demi trait.
