“I think you should take these before I eat the entire thing.”
“Take them. I’ve had more than my fair share. Trust me. Desiree sent two of these tins, and Mama barely touched hers. I’m planning on making a holiday order in the next couple of days to have them here by Thanksgiving.”
Mark nods. “Your mom, huh?”
Unease begins to spread in my chest. I got carried away in what I divulged in this conversation. That was always the problem with Mark. I could so easily get caught up in talking with him and accidentally tell him more than I meant to.
I nod without looking directly at him before covering the tin can with its silver and white lid. “Here. Take ’em. Really.” I shove the cookies so far across the table they nearly fall into his lap.
“I’ll take ’em if you promise not to tell my sister-in-law I said these were the best cookies I’ve ever tasted.”
We both laughed. “She’s a good cook, huh?”
“Resha’s great. Connor lucked out.”
“Your brother. How’s he doing?” I lean into the table, expecting him to open up about the older brother he revered.
For a moment, he looks as if he’s planning to do precisely that. His eyes widen, and that light that used to invade his pupils whenever he spoke of Connor appears. But then his gaze moves to me, and the light dims. I see it all happen in a flash, a flicker of a memory. As if he remembers who he’s talking to.
The girl that broke him.
Mark clears his throat. “It’s late, and we both should get going.”
Reluctantly, I nod, knowing this is for the best. Truthfully, it’s dangerous for me to be this close to Mark outside of work. As long as we’re in the walls of Townsend Industries, I can keep up the myth that any interactions between us are due to us by our employment obligations. However, in the confines of this restaurant, we haven’t talked much about work.
The lie I was telling myself slips away.
I want to know Mark outside of the Townsend and Cypress merger. Selfishly, I want to find out all about what his life is like today. How he’s changed as a result of the accident, and how he’s remained the same.
“I’ll escort you to your car,” he says as we exit the restaurant.
“Thank you for theescort,” I tease, grinning.
He shrugs as he moves to the outside of the sidewalk, ensuring I’m walking on the inside.
“It’s not like I could say I’llwalkyou to your car.”
My body stiffens, and I stop short, turning to him. He’s wearing a grin.
“Did you just make a joke about not being able to walk?”
He glances up, his eyebrows creasing as a quizzical expression overtakes his face. “I think I did.”
Oddly, I burst out into laughter, as does he. A couple of passersby look at us as if we’re crazy, but I don’t care about them. Something feels as if it lifts in the thickness of the air around Mark and me.
“Trust me, J, it’s not the first joke I’ve made since being in this chair, and it sure as shit won’t be the last.”
“Still a potty mouth, too.”
He snickers. “Thank Connor for that. He still curses like a sailor.”
I laugh, but just as I work up the nerve to ask more questions about him and his brother, we arrive at my car.
“Thanks for dinner.” That sounds too much like what you say on a date, but I can’t think of anything else to say.
“No sweat. The company pays for it anyway,” he answers, reminding me the only reason we’re here is because we’re working together.
Good reminder. I need to keep that in mind.
