“You mean a high-pitched voice?”
“I mean, lit-tral goo-goos and ga-gas.”
“You’re joking.” I laugh, stealing a fry.
“No word of a lie. I like to think I’m open-minded, but that’s not my thing. I prefer my women to be all-adult.”
“Where do you stand on being called Daddy?” I tease.
His smile is slow. His quip is smooth and sexy. “You’ll have to try it and find out.”
I feel that challenge down to my core. Every sign says he’d be amenable to an overnight stay, but how do I even broach it?
When I excuse myself, I stare at my reflection above the bathroom sink and cock one hip. “Hey, big boy, wanna come up to my room for the night?”
I snort, laughing at myself. I sound like a bad Mae West impersonator.
Nope. I’m off the clock. I don’t need to plan or script this. When the moment’s right, I’ll lean into it.
I wash my hands, slip a breath strip on my tongue, and refresh my lipstick. Thankfully, the leave-in moisturizer is doing its thang. I love my curls, but they don’t always like the summer humidity. For work, I usually rotate between my wash-n-go style, big-roller waves, and a flat-ironed bun with a side swoop. That has me thinking about the Gentle Giant’s livelihood.
Details? Planning? Could be project management or consulting. He’s definitely a processor. It’s in the way his eyessometimes sharpen, scanning as if he’s feeding data to his brain and assembling it all. But there’s warmth there, too. Kindness. The type of man who listens. Who cares. Not that it matters. After tonight, we’ll never see each other again.
That thought drops a small pit in my chest.
I text Lot, keeping my emotions in check:
Me: No notes. Kitty’s purring.
I add emojis because they annoy her. Then I click off my phone, tuck it away, and return to the table.
He’s not there.
The breath whooshes out of me. Of course, he could have also made a pit stop, but it wouldn’t be the first time a man dined and dashed. I hadn’t figured him forThat Guy, though that doesn’t count for much. My radar has misfired more times than is healthy.
Why do some men have to be such trifling trash? I’m spiraling down that rabbit hole when hands land lightly on my shoulders from behind, his voice warming my spine.
“I hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”
I set my purse on the table and pull myself together before turning—but not enough to fool him.
“What’s wrong?”
“I thought you left.”
His brows pinch hard. “I woohdn’t do that.”
“I know. It’s happened before, and my mind just went there.”
“He must’ve been a real m’bhuka.”
“What’s that?”
“An idiot.”
I smile then. “You’re sweet. I can see why you picked Gentle Giant as your handle.”
“I didn’t. Neo did,” he says wryly. “But you can call me DK.”
