“I am.Starving,” he growls. His eyes are darker than normal, and they look sort of predatory but not in a creepy way.Sexy.
After the waiter leaves, neither of us says anything for several minutes, although it seems like an hour. When I can’t take it any longer, I say, “So, what do you do at the security company?”
“What do I do there?”
“Yeah. Do you always work functions like the one on New Year’s Eve?”
“No, I do all sorts of things. I do work at functions like those occasionally, but my main job is to plan the security for VIPs from start to finish.”
“Wow, you must be high up in the company. That sounds important.” I take a sip of water just as our server delivers our beers. I skip the glass and drink straight from the bottle. When I see that Sam has started pouring his into the glass, I feel heat hit my cheeks. My manners are terrible. He stops pouring and then decides to drink straight from the bottle as well. Thank goodness.
“I am pretty high up, I guess you’d say. I own the company.”
I choke on my drink, coughing and attempting to breathe. Sam jumps up from the table to help me, but I gather myself before I make a total jerk out of myself. “I’m fine. I’m fine.”
“That surprises you?”
“Um, no. I guess not.” Lauren said the company was major; her dad paid a lot of money for their services. He must be good at what he does. He looks like he’d be good. Oh, crap. My mind just took off in the dirty direction. “My friend’s father hired you for something, and she said that company was pretty major.” Major? Jeez, I’m a dork.
“You asked your friend about me?” he says with a smirk.
“Well, yeah,” I reply hesitantly.
“Smart. You should always check on people who hit on you, MacKenzie. Safety first. Now, I’ve got a question for you.”
“Okay.” Uh-oh, what could he possibly ask me?
“Tell me about your coat.”
“My coat?”
“Yeah, it’s not your typical winter coat.”
I don’t want to start talking about Pops on our date. I’ll cry, and tears won’t be a good first impression. “Oh, no biggie. I’ve had it a long time. I like it. It’s comfy.” I take a drink of beer tohopefullyend this conversation.
I think he takes the hint, because he asks me, “How long have you worked at the shop?”
“Oh, let’s see,” I say, looking up. I really haven’t thought about it. “I guess it’s been about three years. I started off as part-time and moved to full-time about two years ago.” I hope I don’t bore the heck out of this guy.
“Have you sold a lot of your own pieces?”
“Not a lot. A couple here and there.” I’m not about to confess to him that I’m a failure and that he was my only sale.
“I’m surprised you don’t sell out as soon as you have something there. Your pieces are stunning. My mom loved hers, and my sister will, too.”
I smile my brightest smile at him. I don’t get the feeling he’s just stroking my sensitive art ego. I think he really feels that way. “Thank you. I’m really glad your mom liked hers.”
Before the conversation dies a slow death, the food is served. Sam ordered three meals, and now I see why. He hands me a plate and says, “Dig in. We’re going to share.”
I hesitate, but there’s enough food here for five people, so I take a little bit from each plate. “Mm, so good,” I moan. The food is delicious. “I’ve only had Mexican food from a taco truck or from more of a fast-food establishment. This is wonderful.” I moan again.
“I’m glad you like it. Chef Bayless is a friend of mine.”
I nod. Am I supposed to know this guy? His name sounds familiar, but I refuse to look like a dummy here, so I shove more food in my mouth and drink more beer. A second beer appearsbefore me without even asking. This place has excellent service. After dinner, I pull on my coat as Sam leads me back outside. I turn to him, raising my hand to shake his, and say, “Sam, I had a great time. Thank you for dinner.”
He chuckles. “Are you leaving?”
“I thought I’d grab a bus. Then you don’t have to drive me home.”
