He glanced at meout of the corner of his eye. “I don’t know where I’m going.”
I gave himdirections to my apartment complex and settled back into the comfort of thepassenger seat. The radio hummed very softly with music I didn’t recognize andcould barely hear. Mostly the car was filled with the sound of the enginezipping through traffic or purring at stoplights.
I should have beenspitting fire at this man that had so completely insulted everything about meearlier tonight. But alcohol and my friend’s future wedded bliss had made mesoft and culpable. So instead of wrapping Ezra in my deadly web and then bitinghis head off for a midnight snack, I closed my eyes and let myself feelgratitude.
“Thanks again,Ezra,” I said sincerely. “The party was a major success.Lilouwas perfect. Meg is a genius. And you already know that Wyatt is the best. Youdid a pretty great job of swooping in to save the day.”
Of course he pickedup on my change in attitude right away. “Are you being nice?”
I tilted my facetoward him and frowned at his profile. “I blame the alcohol.”
His lips twitchedbut I couldn’t be sure if it was because of an almost smile or if he’ddeveloped a facial tick. There was a good possibility he was about to have astroke. “Me too,” he said.
Not knowing whatelse to say after that, we both fell silent. I turned in my seat so I couldstare out the window, but the streetlights cast a glare and I ended up staringat Ezra’s reflection instead.
From where I sat Icould see the faint stubble that had appeared along his jaw, equally as blackas the hair on his head. His sharp nose that looked like cut marble in thewindow reflection.His high cheekbones and long throat.Those masculine shoulders that were so ferociously broad before his torsothinned to a tapered waist. He could have so easily been a model in a differentlife. Or maybe even this one still. Depending on how the restaurant biz turnedout for him.
He drove with pureconfidence, weaving in and out of late night traffic like he moonlighted forNASCAR. He commanded the car in the same way I imagined he handled all thingsin life—with total control and determination. And he never once lost hisconcentration to look at me.
He didn’t just dothings. He conquered things.
All the things.
He was too much forme. Too sure of himself. Too successful. Too self-possessed.
Too manly.
Too way, way, wayout of my league.
By the time hepulled up in front of my apartment complex, I had stopped breathing altogether.Nerves ran in panicked circles inside my chest, forever bumping into each otheras they tried and failed to settle. I pictured them with their hands in the airand their mouths wide in desperate concern.Abort,abort!They screamed.Run for thehills!
As if I could justjump out of Ezra’s car, ninja-roll into the bushes and live the rest of my lifeforaging in the Appalachians. Pretty sure that was a future60 Minutescautionary tale in themaking.
Ezra put the car inpark and hovered his hand around the ignition. “Can I walk you inside?”
“Please don’t!” Wavinghim off, I said, “I got this. I’m just up…” I pointed in the general directionof the sky.
“Do you haveeverything?” he asked.
I wiggled my feetand tapped my purse in my lap. “Yep.” My hand slid over the door until I foundthe handle.
“Molly,” Ezra stalledme with just that one word—with just the way he used it.
I half turned toface him. For the first time in our entire acquaintance, I saw hesitation andmaybe even uncertainty.
“What you saidabout my website… I’m just wondering… Maybe if you have time… I would bewilling to pay you if you would take a look at it again.”
My pulse skipped asI stared at him in an effort to decipher if he was serious or not. Even if Ididn’t have the Black Soul project right now, who would want to work with arestaurant owner that had no misgivings about calling you names and insultingyour taste? No thanks. That initial five minute interaction pretty much ruinedany and all future work-related collaborations between the two of us.
And hopefully allthe non-work-related collaborations as well.
This was whathappened when I was nice. I should know better than to be nice.
I prepared aprofessional excuse in my head, something about a new project and not havingthe focus for him. But what came out was unfiltered truth instead. “Ezra,that’s a terrible idea.”
“It’s not,” heinsisted, not even phased with my answer, almost like he’d anticipated it. “I’msurrounded by ‘yes’ people. Save for Killian and Dillon, I have nobody willingto tell me the truth. They’re all afraid of me.”
I shouldn’t havelaughed. Really. He was being open and honest and… open and honest. But thelook on his face was like the businessman equivalent to a three year old’spout.
