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“Um… Thank you, I think.”
“Definitely a compliment.” Treyton shakes his head. “And he’s not wrong.”
“Am I to assume I’m not the first woman you’ve brought here?” I tap my heeled foot on the floor, not sure why the thought bothers me. I guess because I don’t like being grouped with theothers. Because I’m nothing like them, that much I know to be true.
Treyton simply shrugs noncommittedly. “You know what you want to eat yet?”
“Does it look like I’ve had time to decide?” I snip. “Now shush and let me look.” I turn my attention to the large menu hanging over the counter. Having suddenly lost what little appetite I had, thanks to nerves, I order the first thing that sounds decent; ham and swiss on rye.
Once we’ve gotten our drinks from the fountain machine, Treyton leads me to a table directly next to the front windows.
“You sure you want to sit here?”
“Why wouldn’t I?” He slides down into one of the empty seats, setting his drink on the table.
“Aren’t you afraid people are going to start beating down the door?”
“Not likely they’ll notice it’s me.” He taps the bill of his hat.
“You think that keeps people from noticing you?” I give him a disbelieving look as I take the seat across from him.
“It’s better than walking around with my face on full display.”
“Newsflash, I can see your face perfectly fine. Seems to me you’re not very well versed in the disguise department.” I take a small sip of my diet cola.
“Guess I just don’t care that much.”
“But you rented out an entire sandwich shop for a late lunch.”
“There’s a difference between people seeing me and people not letting me eat a meal in peace.” He gives me a pointed look, reminding me of last night.
I’ve never experienced anything like that. The way those people looked at him. It was like they were meeting a God or something. Don’t get me wrong, I get the appeal. There is something fascinating about celebrities and let’s be real, Treyton is gorgeous with a capital G, but at the end of the day he’s just a person.
“I guess that’s true,” I agree, because really, how can you disagree with something you’ve witnessed firsthand.
“So, how was your day?” He leans forward, resting his elbows on the table between us.
“You want to know about my day?” I give him an apprehensive look.
“Of course, I do. We’re friends, remember? Friends talk about their days.”
“You were serious about that? The friends thing, I mean.”
“I’m here, aren’t I?” He leans back in his seat, gesturing between us. “Now, your day… how was it?”
“It was okay. I’m sure anything I could tell you would be boring in comparison to your day.”
“Try me.”
“Well, I sold the house I was showing. So there’s that.”
“Congrats. Raking in the money this week.”
“Yeah, it’s been… Profitable.” I bite down on my bottom lip to contain my smile.
“Speaking of which, I have something for you.” He leans forward, reaching into the back pocket of his jeans, producing a folded piece of paper. “Here.” He extends it to me.
“What is it?” I ask, taking the paper from him. I slowly unfold it, my heart nearly leaping straight out of my chest when I realize it’s not just a piece of paper, but a cashier’s check. A very, very large cashier’s check. “How… The sale hasn’t closed… I don’t…”
