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"Please, I insist. I want to spoil you."
"And I keep telling you I don't need to be spoiled. I’m also telling you I’m sure I have something adequate."
"That's what I love about you. You won't let me lavish you with gifts. You're a real person and not a gold digger. Which mother will also appreciate. And while you have something appropriate, I’m sure, you need something befitting being on my arm."
"Wow, gold digger. That word’s not misogynistic at all."
He winced. "I'm sorry. I know there's a lot I need to unlearn. Isn't that what the kids say these days?"
The hits just kept on coming. "Well, all that unlearning should really come from inside, don't you think? Things you want to change. Not things that someone tells you to change."
"All I know is I want to be a better person than my father."
"That's a good start, I guess."
"Let me take you window shopping at least so we can look at some options. And that way we can coordinate."
I frowned at him. "Coordinate?"
"Yes. We'll order my vest. I'll get a tuxedo that matches your dress in some way."
"Wow, I didn't know this was a thing that you were doing."
"Of course, it's a thing," he said with a laugh.
As we stood at the corner, he wrapped an arm around me, pulling me in close. "I did need to talk to you about something."
"Okay, what is it?" I asked pulling back slightly.
"The other night, with my father…"
I winced. "Yes, well, that did not quite go the way I thought it would."
"Me neither. And I know I have apologized for him and the situation he put you in, and well, for him being a twat."
I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "It's done. We don't have to talk about him."
"No, but what I do want to talk to you about is the fact I'd meant to have that proper date."
I shifted on my feet. "We talked about this. It's not really something I can do. I love my job. I don't want to lose it for any inappropriate relationships."
"I understand. But I was thinking, I can't ask a woman to risk it all for me if she doesn't know what she's risking it for."
I laughed. "What does that even mean?"
"Well, I planned on kissing you that night and watching our chemistry explode."
I froze. "Oh. I see." Because what was I supposed to say? 'Please don't put your lips on me. I have a tendency to stab things that I don't like?'
He pulled me closer, and I forced myself to take deep even breaths. It was only a kiss. I could fake it. Hadn't I faked it before? How many bad dates had I kissed? He placed his lips over mine, and I held myself still. Zero magic. Zero anything. I might as well have been kissing a pillow.
Suddenly, we were jarred. He released me from his grip, and I stumbled, teetering on my heels. Jennings was scowling at a retreating form. A familiar retreating form. Tall, broad-shouldered. He had bumped into us.
Gabe.
He’d heard that whole interaction. He’d found us on the street and interrupted that kiss.
There was a part of me that was grateful, but also a part of me that wanted to throttle him. Why the fuck was he interfering with my mission? And as soon as I had a moment, I was going to let him know exactly how I felt about it. Who knew, maybe I was going to use my knives?
