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Squealing, I give him a huge grin. I’m so bored, and I really didn’t want to deal with the monotony of cooking. Roman rolls his eyes as I put the chicken away and he shoos me out the door.
He drives me to another part of town, closer to the city, and I hope we don’t run into Holly or her friends. I’ve had quite enough of them.
Roman pulls into a Mom and Pop diner, and a small smile plays over my lips as I get out. I rarely get to eat at places like this because of my mother’s fear that I’ll gain weight.
Sighing happily, I walk beside Roman.
“Something wrong?” he asks as he opens the door.
“Nope,” I tell him as I pop the ‘p’ like a brat.
Roman’s lip twitches, and I feel like he’s going to forget about his curiosity, but sadly that’s not in the cards.
Waiting until we’re seated, he thanks the hostess for our menus before his whiskey colored eyes fall back on me.
“Explain what happened back there. Does this not fit into your diet plan?” Roman asks gruffly. “I know dieting fads are the in thing right now, but…”
Please, kill me now.
Looking over the menu, I decide on a burger and fries before setting it aside.
“I’ve been on a diet since I turned eleven, Roman,” I explain to him. “Who do you think did that? Do you think eleven year olds go around thinking: will that cheeseburger make my ass look big?”
I’m tired of him making assumptions. Everyone thinks my mother is perfect, and that I’m the black sheep in our family. Only one of those is incorrect, and I am definitely the fuck up in the family.
“Wait.” Roman slaps the menu down on the table. “Are you being honest right now? That’s a serious accusation—”
Smiling sadly, I tell him, “I was really looking forward to a burger and fries, but I could totally call Kylee instead to rescue me. I appreciate you taking me to dinner, Roman. But I’ll go. I really don’t want to feel shamed tonight.”
A spark of… jealousy?... appears in his eyes at the mention of Kylee’s name, and I have to tell myself I’m mistaken.
“No,” Roman barks, and he swallows as he shifts in his seat. “I know your mom has her moments, but telling an eleven year old she’s overweight? Really?”
Shrugging, I turn to the waitress as I order my meal. “Beer or wine with your meal?” the waitress asks, and my brows raise. I wouldn’t expect a place like this to be able to serve alcohol.
“Beer would be great,” I tell her with a sweet smile, and Roman rolls his eyes at my not being old enough yet to drink, but doesn’t contest it, and orders the same.
“I didn’t think preachers drank beer,” I tease him.
“Tempest… I wasn’t always a preacher. I also think I’m going to need alcohol for this meal,” he says with a smirk.
Jerk. I’m not that bad.
One beer turns into two… which turns to three as we chat.
“I loved riding and building motorcycles, and dreamt about running a garage, but life had different ideas,” Roman laughs.
I’ve never heard him laugh like this before. Easy, open, real.
Shifting, I breathe deeply. I think my panties are going to be destroyed during this dinner.
“What made you decide to be a preacher?” I ask, wincing slightly at how breathy my voice becomes.
Grabbing a french fry, I take a bite as I wait for his answer. Roman’s staring at my lips, and my fingers tremble. Fuck, this man is going to ruin me if he keeps looking at me like that. I think I may let him.
No. He’s a bad idea, Temp.
I don’t think I’ve ever listened to my own advice before.
