I nodded, wanting to sayI’d love to get a table, but I don’t want to finish this conversation, but something was stopping me. I liked it all too much. Loved it. I wanted to hold on to it for as long as I could.
Layton settled the tab with the bar waitress and stood, placing his hand on my lower back as he guided me toward the hostess.
“Do you have room for two?” He waved two fingers in the air and either didn’t notice or ignored the brunette’s sneer. He wasn’t New York chic and wasn’t even trying to be, a fact she clearly didn’t appreciate.
“We don’t have a table for two open,” she said with a disdainful sniff. “Sushi bar only.”
“Sushi bar’s great,” I chimed in, narrowing my eyes at the rude waif. “My favorite, actually.”
“Fine. This way.” She grabbed some menus and led us through the labyrinth of a restaurant.
“Wait, one sec,” Layton called as we passed the signature Buddha. He winked at me and pulled me close for a selfie. “Say cheese,” he whispered in my ear. “And take a long time so we really annoy the hostess.”
I guess he did notice her attitude.
Seated at the sushi bar, we ordered another drink and a few rolls based on my recommendations. Layton begged and borrowed for an order of chicken spring rolls, which were not normally served at the bar. His quiet charm won out, and I watched him dip the crispy fried treats into duck sauce.
“About the sushi, I’m sorry. I suggested this place without thinking. I should have been more thoughtful. Italian or something would have been better, but this place, it’s a New York must, and I didn’t think about you.”
He brought his palm over my hand and squeezed. “It’s cool. I said sushi. No worries,” he said, and it felt genuine and honest.
This man was too good to be true. Like a fairy-tale prince, he was rescuing me, not from a villain but from a life of boredom and mediocrity. What if that wasn’t what I wanted? I’d worked so hard for so long for one thing, and one thing only. To get ahead.
So did I want to jump on his horse and ride away?
He enjoyed his food, savored it in a way no one I hung out with did. It was refreshing. I stared at his tongue dart out and lick his lower lip clean, and I had to mentally restrain myself from leaning forward and doing the job for him.
“Here, take one bite. It’s not going to kill you.”
Layton knocked me out of my trance, holding a small bite of spring roll in front of me. My tongue leaped at the chance to share the closest proximity with his fingers; it took every ounce of restraint in my body to keep it from running its tip along his thumb.
Only eat the spring roll.
I closed my mouth over the morsel and I might have moaned at the salty, fried goodness bathing my tongue in calories—a poor substitute for Layton’s finger.
I should have told Janie what I was doing tonight; she would have talked some sense into me. Maybe I should have listened to my neurotic mother and met Garrett for a drink?
Because here I was having dinner with a man I met on an airplane, a happy-go-lucky, chummy type, warm and affectionate with eyes you could drown in. A guy who liked to make me laugh and shared witty banter; he ate fried food and had probably never taken a spin class in his life.
None of my attraction to him made sense. It was all a jumbled mess in my brain.
“Good, right?” Layton swiped his thumb across my chin, apparently removing a stray crumb.
“Really good.”
“You’re not going to run five extra miles tomorrow, are you?”
What’s with this guy? Does he spy on me?
“Truthfully, I’ll probably be tempted. I’m a fitness editor, Layton. Practice what you preach and all that.”
“I guess I don’t exactly fit the mold of who you normally share dinner with?”
He asked the question quietly, his eyes not meeting mine for the first time since I’d arrived. Instead, he concentrated on the mahogany bar in front of us, running his index finger along the edge—instead of on my knee.
“Layton ...”
“I know. It was overly optimistic of me to presume I had a chance.”
