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“Don’t you think that’s a bit old-fashioned? I’m perfectly capable of paying for dinner.”
Sort of.
She didn’t have much discretionary money left for the next two weeks, but that was all right. She’d get by.
“Perhaps I am a bit old-fashioned,” he admitted. “But at forty-two, I’m not going to change. I am who I am. And you’ll need to accept me that way.”
Sheesh.
She wondered what it would be like to be that confident in yourself?
“Well, I’m new-fashioned, so you’ll just have to accept that.”
“Got your sassy pants on tonight.”
“Sassy dress,” she corrected.
“This important to you? Paying for stuff? Opening your own door? Carrying your own stuff? Walking on the outside of the sidewalk?”
Um. Hell.
Short answer? No.
Long answer? She actually liked it when people did those things for her.
“Because they’re important to me. They make up a part of who I am. Am I me if I let you struggle to carry boxes of stuff when I’m capable and willing to do it? By not allowing me to do that stuff, I feel less like me.”
She turned to him, gaping. “Wow, you’ve really been saving up some good words, huh?”
He didn’t smile, though.
Shit. He was totally serious.
And she felt terrible. Also, she realized how much she’d come to rely on those smiles. To enjoy them.
He just grunted.
Isa took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “I actually like when you do those things, it makes me feel taken care of, protected. I’d like you to keep doing them. If we . . . I mean . . . if we see each other again.”
“We’ll be seeing each other again.”
Had the man never suffered from a lack of self-confidence? Jeez, she could only imagine what that would feel like.
“And I will be doing those things for you.”
“I’m sorry if I made you feel less. I really hate that I did that. But it didn’t feel right for you to pay when I owed you.”
“You didn’t owe me anything. All I wanted was to spend some time getting to know you. That was payment enough.”
“God, I feel like a shitty human being right now.” She drew her legs up onto the seat and wrapped her free arm around them. Her other hand was still held by his on his thigh.
“Hey, no need for that.” He squeezed her hand, then reached over to tap her knees. “Put them down.”
She laid her cheek on her knees and stared over at him. “I don’t feel so good. I’m sorry I upset you. Disappointed you. I promise to try to do better. I’m sorry. Really. I won’t do it again. I won’t.”
“Isabelle,” he said in a low, crooning voice. Then he surprised her by pulling off the road and parking. He quickly undid her seatbelt.
“What are you doing?”
