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Ryan bit back a smile at her refusal to swear. “What do you say we start again? I’m ordering an appetizer. You want in on that?”
A shy smile kicked up the corner of her mouth. “Depends on what you’re getting.”
“Oh, she’s being picky now,” he teased, enjoying the way Peyton wrinkled her nose at him in a mock scowl.
The server stopped at their table. “Can I get you some drinks or appetizers to start?”
“White wine,” Peyton said.
“What do you have on tap?”
The server ran through the list of beers. “Can I get the pale ale, and can we also get some bruschetta and like a Caesar salad to start?”
“Actually, can we do the house salad instead?” Peyton asked. She looked over at him. “Trust me, it’s bomb.”
“Okay, house salad it is. Thanks.”
Ryan leaned back in his chair and kicked his legs off to the side so he could stretch out his 6-foot-3 frame without giving Peyton the boots under the table. “So how long have you run Kidsplay?”
“I’ve been working there about five years, running it for two.”
“You seem pretty young to be in charge of a place like that.”
Peyton smiled at the server as she set their drinks on the table. “I am, but I’ve worked really hard to prove myself. The managers of most of the other agencies are significantly older than I am, and they don’t always believe someone my age would know what they are doing.”
“But you’ve proved them wrong.”
Peyton’s chest puffed up with confidence. “I have. I’m not going to lie. Earning the contract with the Hawks is a big win for me. I have some really great ideas for the program, and I’m thrilled that the team agreed with my vision.”
Ryan’s shoulders stiffened. “Did Andy have much to do with that decision?”
Peyton sighed. “Some, I guess, yeah.” She placed her hands on the table. “Look let’s just clear the air here. Yes, I met Simon because of my job, and yes, to a degree, I’m sure he had a hand in us getting the contract, but not as much as you think. When he talked to me, he really liked the program at the San Diego Youth Center. I may have used that to my advantage in my pitch because I was able to reference all the things he said about why he was leaning that way to my advantage to point out why our team was a better choice. Maybe that was shady of me but—” She shrugged. “My program means a lot to me, and I’m not above using any advantage I can get, but truthfully I did the same thing with the information Kirsty told me, so I didn’t see it as doing anything wrong. Although I probably should have waited to date Simon, Andy, whatever he goes by.” She flicked her wrist absently. “But I didn’t date him because I wanted to lock in the contract. That’s not the kind of advantage I’d want. I wouldn’t be able to live with myself. Sheesh, I don’t even swear around the kids—I’m sure as sugar not going to have sex with someone to lock a contract for them.”
He bit back a smile at her language. “Sure as sugar?”
“Shut up.” She lightly kicked him on the leg again. Except this time, it felt flirtatious rather than aggressive.
“So why did you date him?”
“Honestly, now that I’ve seen the real him, I have no idea. If I’d had any idea what a jerk he was, I never would have given him the time of day.”
“You seem like someone who cuts through the bullshit pretty easily. I’m surprised you couldn’t see his from a mile away.”
Peyton picked up her drink and took a sip. “Me too. I’m not sure where my head was at. I just wanted to believe he was a good guy. He spouted all this stuff about the importance of youth in sports and keeping kids out of trouble. It sounded like he could relate to the needs of the program, and I guess I just saw what I wanted to see.”
“You didn’t seem to have that same problem when it came to me.” He raised his eyebrows as he remembered their first encounter where she’d demanded he stop the car on the side of the road.
“Hmm, but the difference is you weren’t trying to play me. There was no doubt in my mind what you thought of me.”
He winced. “Sorry about that. In hindsight, I could have been less of a dick.”
Peyton laughed. “It’s all good. Unintentionally dating a married man was not my finest hour.”
“Glad to hear it.” He took a sip of his beer, letting the malty hops linger in his mouth for a moment before he swallowed it down.
The server set down their appetizers on the middle of the table, and he eyed the salad Peyton had ordered. It looked damn good with the olives, huge croutons, ricotta, and some kind of pickled pepper.
“Did you want to divide this up onto plates?” she asked.
