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What had he meant earlier when he’d called me normal?
Was he indicating, from the start, that he didn’t expect sex? That he expected me to want more?
I didn’t particularly understand his reasoning even though it had seemed perfectly logical to him. But then, why wouldn’t it? I couldn’t even begin to imagine how many women threw themselves at him on a daily basis. He was a billionaire, and yet, he had the personality of the guy-next-door.
I loved that. The more I was with him, the more I noticed it.
All day, I hadn’t dreaded the date. Maybe I’d felt a certain amount of trepidation, but nothing out of the ordinary. Nothing that I wouldn’t have felt before over a first date when my wardrobe was as threadbare as it currently was.
That, I was almost ashamed to admit while being strangely proud too, had been my biggest fear today.
I had nothing to wear.
Having settled on a silky sweater that I usually saved for visits home and a pair of slacks, I was hardly dressed up. Nothing like what he would be used to, with those hordes of women who threw themselves at him Monday through Sunday, but I looked decent.
I hoped.
Until I received my first pay packet, I wouldn’t be able to do a damn thing about the state of my closet, and even then, I wouldn’t be able to. I had bills. So, so many of them, and the money was earmarked their way.
Mostly, I’d spent the day working and railing at a fate that made it so this twenty-seven year old couldn’t buy herself a new skirt because she was still paying out on the loan she’d had to take out to pay off the fines the judge had ordered she pay back to Nida—for his expenses.
I could feel myself start to drown under the weight of the past, then Max slammed the door shut behind me. It took me less than a second to realize I hadn’t fallen under the weight of my history. He couldn’t have noticed in the time it had taken him to close the damn door!
Together, we walked the four steps to the restaurant, which wasn’t what I’d imagined. It wasn’t glossy or chic, wasn’t packed with press outside waiting to take photos of the celebs inside.
It was small, cozy, cute.
I blinked, a little surprised now I thought about it, but then, even as the surprise came, it went as relief took its place.
Maybe he felt it, because he shot me a look as we stepped toward the doorway.
“They make the best pizza in town,” he said, his tone almost apologetic.
Had he mistaken my relief for disappointment?
My cheeks tinged with heat as I ducked my head, but I caught his gaze, not wanting him to misunderstand. I’d just been relieved that my clothes would stand up to this place. A celebrity eatery was not prepared for my sweater or my scuffed heels.
“That’s fighting talk,” I told him.
His eyes flared with interest, and I knew I’d taken him aback. “It is, huh? Why?”
I jerked my chin up, and throwing caution to the wind, told him, “This is your idea of the best pizza in town, how about tomorrow, we try out my idea.”
He tilted his chin to the side. “What happens if you’re bored shitless over my dinner talk? I could eat with my mouth open, or drink too much. Make slurping noises with the water or get food in my teeth and talk to you so you can see it.”
There was something to his tone that made that fire dance through my veins once more…
He was baiting me, and his eyes were laughing as he did it.
The jerk!
I loved it!
I smirked at him, loving that he was teasing me, loving that I didn’t cower under his amusement at my expense. “I’m sure I can cope if you can.”
“If I can?” he asked, frowning.
I shrugged. “I mean, I always get food stuck between my teeth and the last time I brushed them was last month. If you can deal with that, then I’m sure I can deal with your lack of manners too.”
