“And I was the one who made it personal. Which in hindsight, was stupid.” I gave her a chagrined look. “That seems to be a thing with me.”
She smiled slightly and looked away. “From where I’m sitting, I think it was pretty awesome. Like something a hero in a rom-com would do.”
“Oh, kiddo, I’m far from hero material. Believe me.” I shook my head, turned off my truck, and pushed my door open. I couldn’t let her ever think about me in those terms. I was an asshole of the highest order. I’d accepted it. Some things just couldn’t be changed.
No matter how much you tried.
Indy was quiet as we walked across the lot to the restaurant, but I could feel her eyes on me the whole way. Trying to figure me out? Regretting throwing her lot in with me? At this point I couldn’t tell, and I was too chickenshit to ask.
I didn’t know if I wanted the truth.
I held the door open for her, and her cheeks flushed as she walked past me into the restaurant.
“Dylan!” James’ voice broke through the dull roar of the busy restaurant lobby. “We’re back here!”
I gave an apologetic smile to the hostess who was still eight people deep in front of us and headed toward James’ wildly waving body. Putting my hand on Indy’s back, I gently guided her around the crowd and down the side hallway.
James met us at the door with a toothy smile. “We just need to mic you guys up again, and then we can get started.”
We went through the whole song and dance again, then we were seated at the large and very empty table.
“Where’s the rest of the guys?” I asked James as we picked up menus.
“They’re on their way. I think Austin said something about avoiding the traffic and taking surface streets?” James waved a hand at the approaching waitress. “But go ahead and order. You don’t have to wait for them. Just forget we’re even here.”
I closed my eyes. “Seriously, James? You’re pulling this shit on her first day?”
“What shit?” Indy murmured softly to me.
“He’s trying to get whatever relationship we have on camera before the guys show up for the gotcha moment.” I turned to glare at our asshole producer. “What time did you tell them to come? One thirty? Two?”
He just stared stoically back at me.
I would’ve loved to leave over the principle of the thing, but right then my stomach gave a rumble that I felt in my toes. I huffed in annoyance. “If I wasn’t so fucking hungry, we’d be out of here.”
James shot me a smug little smile like that was part of his plan. I would’ve loved to rip it off his face, but Indy’s presence—and my anger management—said maybe that wasn’t a good idea.
Being an adult sucked.
Chapter 11
Indy
Tension was high in the Cheesecake Factory’s auxiliary room. Dylan and James were locked in some strange stare-down that was, honestly, kinda hot. Watching two attractive guys glare at each other filled the room with all kinds of testosterone and moody angst. I was a fan. I mean, obviously I was on Dylan’s side—he was defending me after all—but James was kinda cute in that muscular, nerdy way.
Plus, it was the first time in my entire life two guys fought over me. I restrained the urge to fan myself. Barely.
After one more glare, Dylan buried himself behind his huge menu, and I picked up mine with a sigh. Then I turned the pages in confusion. There was so much to choose from. What the hell could they make that was good if they made this much food? And so diverse! Tex Mex, egg rolls, burgers, pasta. I didn’t know where to start.
“Uh, what’s good here?” I finally asked Dylan, all the options spinning in my head.
He grunted then looked up at James. “I’m assuming you all are paying since you’re filming?”
James glared back at Dylan then finally jerked his chin in a nod.
“Get whatever you like, sweetheart. I’m ordering the Steak Diane. Then maybe some carrot cake.”
“Carrot cake? But this is the Cheesecake Factory. Shouldn’t you order cheesecake?” I whispered furiously as the waitress approached the table.
