“Hazing ritual.”
I blink.What the fuck is a hazing ritual?
“A couple of seniors dragged some newbies out of bed in their boxer shorts and made them race across the Rockies on motorcycles. One of them… Well, let’s just say that one of them might not have survived if I hadn’t stepped in and saved him.”
“What is that? Some kind of prank?”
He nods, his expression serious. “Something like that.”
“That’s horrific.”
He smiles at me from across the table, playing down his role in saving someone’s life during a ritual that should never have been allowed to happen.
“So, you saved them, got injured, and then got discharged? Dismissed? Fired?”
He shrugs. “At least I can sleep at night.”
I resist the urge to find his hand and entwine my fingers with his.Too soon!I don’t want to scare him off when he’s just getting comfortable. Then my mango-sorbet-sweetened brain cells jump to a mental image of me getting comfortable in hislap, because I clearly can’t spend any time in his company without imagining our bodies touching.
Heat floods my cheeks, and I keep my eyes on the dish in front of me.
“What about your family?” I ask.
“My mom lives in Queens. Never knew my dad.”
Sounds a lot like my family. We’re more alike than either of us realized.
He leans across the table, grabs a paper napkin, and blots my chin. He’s so gentle, I nuzzle his hand with my cheek without even realizing until his eyes widen and he pulls his hand away.
“Sorry.” I can’t believe I did that.
He’s going to think I’m some crazy psycho who obsesses over every man who takes her on a date. I mean, sure, I’ve already pictured myself in his lap stroking his abs, but that doesn’t make me a psycho. Does it?
“It’s okay.” His eyes lock onto mine. “I liked it.”
The butterflies stir, and I try telling myself that it’s just the sugar rush. I can still pull this back if I get a grip. Right fucking now.
“I’ve talked too much.” He wrinkles his nose as if any more of his history might send me to sleep.
Chance would be a fine thing. And there I go again thinking about sleeping next to him in a super-king-sized bed, naked, our bodies pressed up against one another…
“Tell me about you, Sara.” He jolts me back to the present.
“I was good at math in school.” Passion-killer right there, Sara! Way to go. “I wanted to go to college but…” I spoon some sorbet into my mouth.
“But?”
“But I didn’t get a scholarship and my mom… Let’s just say that my mom never got around to donating to my college fund. It’s okay though,” I quickly add. “I like my job.”
I don’t want to do it forever, but I like the people I work with, and I get to design nail art every day. Could be a whole lot worse jobs to fall into.
“What do you want to do with your life, Sara?”
The seriousness of the question takes me by surprise. But there’s no point lying to him. “I wanted to be an accountant.”
“Wanted?” His eyebrows become zigzags. It’s endearing and cute and distracting.
“Want.” I smile even though it’s never going to happen any time soon. “I want to open my own practice, and crunch numbers all day, and take vacations in exotic places around the world when I start seeing numbers in my sleep.”
