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“Oh, ew, I’m sorry,” she says, her shoulders shaking with laughter. “I’m like the least ladylike date you could think of.”
I lift my hand to my mouth and slurp it off. “You do just fine.”
She tilts her head to the side. “Definitely not a prick.”
Chapter 15
Sam
I should so totally muzzle myself. Or become a teetotaler. I’ve had one glass of wine, and it already seems to have made me have zero filter. Or maybe it was the carbs. Can carbs impact one’s filter like alcohol does?
I don’t think I can blame the alcohol this time. I think it’s… everything and all of the above. All of it.
The way he looks at me across the table, with that almost-hungry, almost-angry, almost-feral intensity. It’s the intensity, I know it is. It radiates off him in waves as if I were standing in front of a wood-burning stove. I could hold my hands up in front of him just to heat them.
My belly is full, but my heart is light. When I brought up the investigation and everything I’ve learned about Toni—for Toni—he showed a definite interest. And though Allie and Madison will help me with all of this, I know that Miguel isn’t going to leave us high and dry. And that matters. It so matters.
I joked about him being portrayed as a prick in the media, and he still has some prick-ish tendencies. To deny that would… probably be unwise. He scowls a lot, tells people what to do, and we all saw how he annihilated that jerk’s camera earlier today.
But, well, that was deserved. Who doesn’t like a guy that defends his niece’s honor?
Le sigh.
But at the same time, there are probably a hundred ways he could’ve handled it that didn’t necessarily involve violence.
I do wonder, though. We suspected he was actively trying to move us out of our shop. Just recently he told me we were going to “speak” about violations of various bylaws and shit… and he hasn’t brought it up since.
Right now, though, I don’t care about any of that.
Toni is with Madison and Allie, and Prince is probably living up to his name, eating finely cut steak out of a porcelain dish.
And I just ate the most delicious meal of my entire life, across from the hottest guy who’s ever given me the time of day.
In other words?
Life is good.
I made excellent progress on the still-fresh investigation. The only thing that’s nagging me about all this is that it seems almost too easy. I’ve barely had to break a sweat.
I excuse myself to use the ladies’ room, and when I’m there I shoot the girls a quick text.
Me: Everything okay?
I smooth down my hair and re-apply my lip gloss, and I’m just puckering up my lips when my phone dings back.
Madison: Everything a-okay over here, chickie. How are things with YOU? Get laid yet? Or still holding onto that V-card with a death grip?
Allie: Madison, chill. BUT DID YOU DO THE DEED
I roll my eyes and wish I hadn’t texted them. Miguel isn’t the only intense one around here. The sex-craved whores that are my besties are close seconds, goddammit.
Me: I’m still in the restaurant for crying out loud, you think he’s fucking me under the table?
Madison: There’s time! Polish up that V-card and prepare to hand it in, baby.
Allie: I kinda like the idea of him getting frisky under the table…
Me: Okay, change the subject, girls. How’s Toni?
Madison: Great. She’s a pip, but she’s an awesome pip
Allie: And Prince is snoring in her lap while we watch The Princess Diaries. She’s never seen it, poor neglected thing.
Me: Awesome. Thank you, girls
Madison: You can thank us by getting it on. Who knows when you’ll have a dog-less, kid-less night again with that walking piece of perfection??
I cringe. Really, Madison? Walking piece of perfection?
Me: xoxoxox
I shove my phone in my bag and go out to meet him, just in time to see him handing the bill back to the waiter. I didn’t even question whether or not we’re going halfsies on this. I couldn’t afford the flan, much less his cock-whatever, and I know he’s the type that would totally pay.
I like that. I think? Do I like that?
He stands when I get to the table, holding my sweater up for me to slide my arms into.
Yeah. Like it.
He may be a prick to everyone else, but he’s got a gentlemanly side that makes a girl swoon.
He takes my hand as we leave the restaurant. I like the effortless way my hand slides against his, the way he opens the door and escorts me out.
I like all of this. This is the stuff of dreams.
“You’re doing a pretty bang-up job there, ya know.”
Why do I say shit like that? Why?
He gives me a curious look. The night is still young, but the sun’s low in the sky, casting a bluish tinge all around us. A little wind picks up, and I move closer to him and his wall of heat. Can’t help but wonder what it would feel like to have that heat pressed to my body again, but this time… skin to skin.
