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“Okay, honey. You're both so cute.” She giggles and moves to the next table. I gap at her retreating back.
“Did she just assume we are a couple?”
Mitch shrugs with a grin, looking a lot like the erroneous assumption does not bother him. I glare at him again. At this point, I’m going to ruin my eyes even further, God.
“You weren’t supposed to order for me, that was very rude of you, assuming you know what I like. Is that what you do? Assume you know what makes women tick? What they love?”
Mitch leans back on his chair after my mini-rant and simply regards me with laughter in his eyes.
“Well, don’t I know what women want? If you asked my exes, they’d tell you it was quite satisfactory.”
A tinkling sensation starts in my belly at the thought of Mitch knowing a woman’s body, pleasuring it. I want it to be my body. I want to be the one on the receiving end of Mitch’s hands, tongue, and whatever else he uses to make women com-
“Here you go,” the waitress says, placing Mitch’s mouth-watering dish in front of him. I gulp, trying not to salivate at the sight. He smirks at me but doesn’t make a move to dig in. Still a gentleman, I see.
When the waiter brings mine, I forget all about Mitch’s and dig in with gusto. As we both tuck in, Mitch explains what he needs my skills for. An app, All4One. A matchmaking app for the elites like him, of course, to find dates to their social events. It is a great idea; one I know will blow up given the perfect planning.
“Simply put, the app will match people of similar backgrounds, values, and core beliefs, ensuring people are matched for the right reasons,” Mitch says proudly. “There was always something superficial in the women I’ve dated, eventually leading to disappointment. This app will help people get closer to finding true love. And, of course, you’ll have a team you can boss around,” he informs me.
I look at him askance. “I will be heading a department?”
“Naturally.”
I bark out a shocked laugh. “Are you forgetting that I don’t have the proper certification? I do not even have a degree.”
“Does that even matter anymore in the world we live in now?” Mitch retorts.
“I guess not,” I reply, remembering the little guy from my last year of high school who had dropped out and made it big time in tech.
“Exactly. It takes more than just certification, and I know you’re pretty good at what you do,” Mitch says, gazing confidently at me. I blush hard and look away. But then, the question that has been nagging at the back of my mind persistently comes to the fore, and I find myself wanting to know. So, I ask as casually as I can.
“I had assumed you’d join your father’s company.”
When I look back at him, I find that Mitch’s eyes have darkened. Sore subject? Should I not have brought it up?
After what seems like an eternity of tense silence but must have been a minute or so, Mitch finally says, “It’s what they wanted.”
I backtrack. “You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”
I am giving him an out, but he doesn’t take it.
“I don’t,” he demurs, being brutally honest. “But we are both going to be working together, not to mention neighbors.”
I nod at the valid point. “So, tell me, then,” I say, sipping my sparkling water.
“I want nothing to do with my father's company.” His eyes are fierce when he says this, and for the first time, I see those brown eyes darken in what can only be described as rage. This makes me a little more curious to know more. But I can tell the little outburst is all I am going to get.
Mitch looks like he's lost his appetite because he pushes his half-eaten plate to the side and frowns at his water as if he had wanted it to be something else. When I finish up, he looks relieved, getting up instantly and guiding us out of the restaurant after he leaves the busty waitress an enormous tip, which honestly sets me off a little.
I forget how rich he is, which is a bit weird. You'd think that with all his parents did, he would want to rub their wealth in people's faces; want a crowd in the room to notice him a little quicker, but that doesn't appear to be what Mitch wants. He appears to want to lead a simple life, which is why I want to get to know him better for myself and not just the little crumbs of information I get from my brother.
Mitch's hand in the small of my back sears through my button-down shirt and burns my skin. I am super aware that his hard, lean body is almost pressed against mine, and the heat coming off his body causes mine to flush. I shiver slightly, but when Mitch drops his hands to get the car door open, the cold of his absence is even bigger.
I sigh and get into the car, buckling in. When he turns the corner, he has a thoughtful look on his face. And then, he finally says, eyes still on the road. “Want to tell me why you're back home?”
My reflex reaction is to shut him down, but I look back at him, my heart softening at the little concern I see in those coffee brown eyes. I swallow hard. I don’t want to talk about it. I don’t even like thinking about why I am back in my parents' house instead of on campus, doing great things. But he had shared something personal at the restaurant, I don't see why I can't give something in return, even though it's one that still hurts.
“I bought the first plane ticket home after I broke up with my longtime boyfriend, since high school.”
