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When the guy finished, I kicked Nine under the table.
“Ow!” He glared at me.
I batted my eyes at Todd. “I’ll have a glass of pinot grigio.” I turned to Nine. “Sweetie, what would you like? A beer?”
“Just a Coke please and some ice water. Thanks.”
Todd tapped the table. “No problem, guys. Be right back with those.”
Nine continued to glare at me. “What was that about?”
“You can’t flirt with other guys when we’re out together.”
His head tilted the same way Nacho’s did when I made certain sounds. “Flirt? Me? I wouldn’t even know how to flirt if I’d taken a year of professional flirt lessons.”
“Pfft. You flirt all the time at home.”
Well, that was weird. Referring to the RV as our home wasn’t something either of us had had the chance to do before.
He smiled at me, the sexy fuck. “That’s different. That’s you.”
“What’s the difference?” I kind of wanted to kick myself for acting like a child. Why the hell was I staking some claim on him when we were barely even together? “Never mind. I’m sorry.”
“No, wait.” He reached over under the table and clasped my hand, threading our fingers together and bringing them over to rest on his warm thigh. “The difference is, I like you. Flirting with you comes naturally because I want you.”
Oh, he was a smooth talker. I felt a little breathless, but I soldiered on. “Like you want the waiter.” Okay, fine. I was a child.
A loud laugh boomed out of my usually quiet Nine. “No. Not even a little bit.”
Of course that’s when Todd the Turd returned with the drinks. “Here you go. Are you ready to place your dinner order?”
Nine gave me a knowing smile. “You go first, gorgeous.”
Well then. That was… that was new. “Um, oh. I haven’t even looked—” I fumbled the menu and nearly dropped it on the floor.
Nine stepped in, smooth as silk. “Sweetheart, if you don’t want a steak, they have a vegetarian couscous dish you’d probably like. It’s right here.” He pointed to it on the menu. He was right. It had all the vegetables I loved in it, including zucchini which was my favorite.
“Yeah. I’ll take that. Thanks.”
“And for you, sir?” He winked at Nine.
“I’ll take the filet medium rare with a potato and salad. Thanks.”
Once he asked all the follow-up questions and took off, Nine squeezed my hand. “You’re making me feel good right now. I kind of like the cat-hiss look you gave him. No one’s ever been like that about me before.”
“It’s ridiculous. I don’t know why I did that. I don’t even care.”
His face fell and his hand let go of mine. Suddenly, my words hit my stomach like a brick. I scrambled for his hand again, but he’d fisted both of his hands on top of the table. “No. That’s not what I meant. Isaac… I’m sorry. That’s not what I meant at all.”
“It’s fine. Really.”
I wrenched one of his hands out of a fist and forced him to hold my hand again, squeezing it tight to get him to look at me. “I care about you. I care about how you feel about me. What I don’t care about is what a stranger thinks. That is what I don’t care about. That is what I was being stupid about. Not you and not me.”
Nine only looked at me from out of the corner of his eye, and he didn’t look convinced. My heart was tripping along too fast like I was scared of him leaving. I hated that feeling. I hated being at the mercy of someone else, whether it was for something trivial like a ride home or something more critical like my good mood or, worse, affirmation of my worth.
I steeled my jaw and pulled my hand away. “Never mind.”
The stupid server took that moment to pop by with our salads, all cheery-faced and flirty. I kept my eyes on my fork to avoid getting even more mixed-up than I already felt.
Nine mumbled a thanks, and we both dug in. I wasn’t hungry anymore, but I ate anyway. The silence was excruciating. Finally, after I’d eaten as much as I could stand, I pushed my plate away and took a deep glug of my wine.
“I care about you too.”
His voice was so soft, I almost lost it to the din of the conversations around us. I glanced up at him. The poor man looked miserable. That wasn’t the way anyone should look when they’ve just exchanged “I care about you’s” with someone. I pushed my chair back without thinking, almost toppling it and definitely disturbing poor Nacho. I stepped around the corner of the table and leaned down to wrap my arms around his neck.
Nine pushed back his own chair and hugged me back with his strong arms. His beard brushed against my neck, and his familiar honey scent calmed my racing heart. “I’m sorry,” I breathed into his ear. “I never want to hurt your feelings, ever.”
