“Pamela, darlin’ I’m really shit at relationships. When I say, it’s not you—it’s me, I’m not blowing smoke. I’m not boyfriend material. I’m sorry if I gave you the wrong impression or hurt your feelings. That wasn’t my intention. Now, I’m gonna ask you one more time. Did you do something to my salad? Cause Micky’s gonna eat it.” Caine points to me and Pamela’s eyes dart in my direction.
“I promise that I didn’t do anything tothatsalad.” Pamela points to the plate in front of him.
I mean, we all know whatthatstatement implies! Wow! I honestly thought that was a myth!
“Pamela, my steak is fifty-five dollars. You best not mess with my food,” Caine says.
The man looks pissed, jaw clenched; he’s even turning red.
And Pamela is blushing.
“Can we get another round of drinks?” Patrick asks, breaking the tension.
“I’ll be right back with those,” Pamela announces, lifting up a fingerbefore turning away and running to the bar.
“You can’t drink anymore,” Caine tells me.
My face scrunches up, and I look at him in annoyance. “I’m sorry. I thought we already established that you aren’t my daddy.”
As soon as the words are out of my mouth, I wish I could grab them and force them back in! Thank God I never called my dad daddy because for some reason—that word has lost all meaning!
Instead of saying anything else, I pick up my fork and stab his salad with it and then shove the leaves into my mouth. No, I don’t know why I’m eating his food and what’s more bizarre is he doesn’t seem to mind!
Caine leans into me and whispers in my ear, “Never call me daddy, ever again. Ya hear?”
I stiffen at the feel of his breath on my neck but force myself to nod my head. I think I just got wet!
“Now eat your food,” he says before snagging a cucumber from my plate and placing it in his mouth.
What the fuck is wrong with me? Somehow, this man has managed to make chewing sexy! Chewing! I hate chewing! The sounds actually give me anxiety! Yet here I am, staring at his mouth while he eats something crunchy!
“If you’ll excuse me, I’m gonna use the little boy’s room,” Patrick says. He points his index finger toward the ceiling. “I apologize. That sounded way less creepy in my head,” he adds before standing and walking away.
Caine opens his mouth to speak, but I hold up my hand. “Acknowledging it will only make it worse,” I whisper.
Caine nods and says nothing.
We finish our salads, and thank God, Pamela returns with our drinks. She puts them down, takes the salad plates and walks away without speaking.
“I will say this, as weird as this dinner has been, it’s also been really entertaining,” I muse aloud before grabbing my glass of wine.
My eyes widen in astonishment when Caine grabs the wine glass right out of my hand and puts it on the other side of the table.
“Excuse me?” I ask, exasperated, my mouth hanging open in shock.
“Weird, but entertaining,” he says, lifting his chin at me. “Now drink your water.”
Then the man has the audacity to boop my nose!
Chapter Five
Caine
I have never in my life wanted to punch my brother more than I do right now. And that’s saying a lot because he pisses me off daily, maybe hourly. The need is so strong, my jaw is hurting from repressing the urge.
“You want me to leave you here and pick you up in the morning?” Patrick asks me with a wink after Pamela walks away from our table again. “Might do you good to get your dick wet.”
“I thought we decided to not go after Salad McCrazyson,” Micky says as she slices into her steak. She’s not even offended by his crude words. “Oh my God, this is so good!” she moans with her mouth full, completely unperturbed by my brother’s crass statement. She shuts her eyes and chews.
