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In the light of day, with exhaustion not weighing on me, I could see this much more clearly. But there was no question that Ezekiel Scott understood it perfectly. I’d agreed to this. So in for a penny, in for a pound. Or euro, as the case happened to be.
I put out my hand across the table. If we were a couple, Zeke should take it. For his part, he didn’t hesitate. The man I was about to create an elaborate lie with caressed my skin with his thumb. He had hard, callused fingers, like he used his hands and not like he regularly got manicures. I stared at his nails. They were clean but not polished.
“I’ll be right back.” The waitress turned and rushed off.
With his free hand, Zeke pointed to the basket. “Eat.” I hadn’t realized that the basket was loaded with pastries. Wow. That was a lot of carbs. I stared at it. Zeke let go of my hand. “Going to make me feed you?”
No, not in public. I had to draw a line about how far I was willing to go in that direction. Instead of eating, I sipped my coffee. It was delicious, already creamed. I tended to drink mine black, but this was fine. Better than that. Outstandingly tasty.
“We have a lot of things to do today, Layla. We have to clothe you, and then you have to come out with me tonight. And we have to talk about your future. None of that is going to happen with an empty stomach. Would you rather have some eggs?”
I took out the croissant. “The eating thing can’t be a constant issue between us. I don’t eat very much. I’m not naturally…thin. But I need to stay that way. It works for you, too, okay? If I gain weight, they’re going to say you got me pregnant. Do you want that? Or do you want me to be the person who people follow because I’m one of the redheads?” “When your feet feel better, we can run together.”
That was all he was going to say to my pronouncement? Really? I angrily buttered my croissant. It was possible to sort of abuse it so that I could take my frustration out on the food instead of him.
He ate, too, stopping only to watch a woman in the corner who started to talk loudly. I followed his direction. She wasn’t crying, but she wasn’t happy. I guessed her to be maybe forty years old, and across from her was a woman who resembled her a great deal, a younger version. Both dark haired. Both blue eyed. Strong, striking cheekbones.
They could be on the cover of something.
“Is she okay?” I asked him. I didn’t have to understand to hear tone.
“She’s not happy. She’s supposed to be leaving her to go for a walk with a man she wants to date. First time since her divorce, and she’s calling herself a bunch of names.” He kept his voice down. “Renee has lots of money, very comfortable. But this is a first, and she’s not feeling…confident.”
I turned in my seat and looked at her quickly before she noticed and then back at Zeke. She was lovely. But I could see it in the way she was holding herself in the chair, the way her daughter wasn’t making eye contact with her. It was already going to be a disastrous date, and it hadn’t happened yet. Just based on how she was feeling right now.
“I can help.”
He leaned forward. “How can you do that?”
“I…know I can.”
This was sort of what I did. In a weird way that I’d never done before. But I wanted to. The poor lady. Why start out behind? If she wanted that date, she should have it go well from the start. There were enough things that could go wrong.
“Okay.” He indicated toward her. “Her daughter knows who you are. Said it when we walked in. And they speak English.”
I rose. I was going to go bother a stranger in the hopes that I could make her day better. I must have been out of my mind, except I had to do this. I just had to.
9
There was no polite way to approach someone about what I was going to do. I mean, it was none of my fucking business. I had no reason whatsoever to get involved in this woman’s day. She might tell me to get the hell away from her, probably in French so I wouldn’t understand her, but I’d get the gist anyway, and I’d be humiliated in front of a café of strangers. And Zeke, who thought of me pretty badly anyway. He’d seen my bank account, and I didn’t know what was in it yet, but I was sure it wasn’t pretty.
But I felt compelled, the same way I had to run down the aisle away from Kit, and apparently, it was a week where I did what I wanted, damn the consequences.
“Hi,” I said to them, and the daughter lit up like a lightbulb. She smiled at me and then at her mom. “I’m sorry to interrupt. This is none of my business. But I thought I could help.”
The daughter said something in French, and I winced. Apparently, Zeke was not going to help me with this. Fine. “I’m sorry. I don’t speak French.” I made a face like I was an idiot as I tapped my temple. “I just never learned. Do you by any chance speak English?”
“Why yes, of course.” Her accent was thick, but she was entirely understandable. “I’m surprised you are with Zeke if you don’t.”
“Mother.” Her daughter’s accent matched her own. “She’s the redhead. Of course, he’s with her. She’s famous.”
I shook my head. Time for the line. “Oh, I’m hardly the only redhead. There are still enough of us around, even if we’re rare. Why, my sisters are both redheads, too.” I never said it exactly the same. But I got the point across each time. “So, if you don’t have a problem with me absolutely not minding my own business, I can help you.”
“Oh.” Her daughter got to her feet. “Layla, I am Danette, and this is Mother, Renee.”
I smiled and nodded, trying to remember my manners in this mannerless situation that I’d created for myself. “I have a little experience with clothes.”
Danette said something to her mother in French, and eventually, her mother rose. “I’m afraid it may be a helpless situation. I don’t have time to go shopping.”
