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“Isn’t it what you want? Honestly, what are we even doing? Why do you even want to be my friend?”
“You want to know why?” He takes a step toward me and then another until he’s standing on the opposite side of the kitchen island from me. “Because you are the first person I’ve met in a very long time that’s actually honest with me. You don’t care that I’m famous. You don’t care about my money. You see me as the jackass that I am. And truthfully, I could use more people like that in my life. Now, will you please come get something to eat with me? I’m withering away here.” He pats his muscular abdomen.
I exhale loudly through my nose, kneading my bottom lip between my teeth.
On one hand, I feel like there’s no way I can say no. On the other, I want to run as fast and as far away as I can because honestly, is it possible to just be friends with someone like Treyton Tyler? I’m really not so sure.
“Come on, Hamilton. Throw me a bone here.” He pouts out his bottom lip.
“Oh my God. Fine.” I groan dramatically, to which I’m rewarded with a smile bright enough to light an entire continent.
For all his flaws, I’ll give him this… He sure is a sight to behold. One that can only truly be appreciated up close and personal.
“Um, where is everyone?” I look around the sandwich shop, shocked to find it completely empty, with the exception of the younger man who let us in and the older man standing behind the counter. It’s rare to find a restaurant in L.A. that isn’t crawling with people, especially at this time of day.
Luke didn’t follow us inside, instead opting to stand right outside of the door.
“Not here.” Treyton shrugs, leading me toward the counter with a light touch to the small of my back.
I do my best to ignore the way that touch zings all the way to my toes, or how aggravated I’ve become with my body’s response to a man that I should be repulsed by. I mean, I am repulsed by him… Aren’t I?
Then why are you here?
Stupid voice in my head. Sometimes I wish I could put a muzzle on that bitch.
“Obviously.” I huff with a dramatic eye roll, to which I’m rewarded with a small chuckle.
“I paid them to close down for an hour,” he mutters quietly, his lips inches from my ear as we stop in front of the counter. “Geoffrey, how nice to see you.” Treyton turns his attention to the smiling, gap-toothed man standing behind it.
“And you, Mr. Tyler.” The older man’s gaze swings to me. “And who is this lovely lady?”
“Clarke,” Treyton and I say in unison. I fight the urge to throw him a death glare, and keep my eyes on the man I can only presume owns the establishment. After all, I can introduce myself.
“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Clarke.” His accent is thick but I can’t place it. Portuguese, maybe.
“And you…”
“Geoffrey Ruiz.”
“Mr. Ruiz.” I smile.
“Please, any friend of Mr. Tyler is a friend of mine. Call me Geoff.”
“Geoff.” I nod at the oddly endearing man.
“Now, what can I get for you two today? The usual?” His eyes swing back to Treyton.
“For me, yes.” He turns in my direction. “Any idea what you’d like?”
“Well, considering we just walked in the door and I’ve never been here before, I’d say I need a minute.” I cross my arms in front of my chest, wishing I had thought to change out of my business suit.
I feel so overdressed with Treyton next to me all casual in his faded jeans and baseball cap, his t-shirt wrinkled to the point that it looks like he slept in the damn thing. Yet somehow, he looks every bit as handsome as he did last night in a tailor made suit. How is that even possible?
“I like her,” Geoff announces with a big smile. “She’s got cahoonas.”
“Cahoonas?” I arch a brow.
“Big balls.” Treyton grins.
