Brow cocked, he grins again. “No. I’m ordering an Uber.”
That should be it. I should wish him a good day and walk away, but instead I find myself tapping his foot with my own and opening my damn mouth. “Want a ride home? Maybe we can grab some food.”
“Yeah?”
“Yeah, why not?” There’s a millionwhy-not’sforming a cue in my mind, but as I seem to do so often around this man, I pay them no attention. “Better to use that money on filling your belly than someone else’s gas tank.”
Cory wets his lips and slides his phone into his pocket. “Since you’re so heavily invested in filling things today, let’s do it, Doc.”
Rolling my eyes, I nod in the direction of my car and get moving, the stupidity of this decision sinking in with each step. Cory falls into step beside me, working hard to keep up with my longer strides. “Why the uber?” I ask, choosing a safe subject. “No electricity at home to charge the beast?” The second it’s out I regret it. They’re having money issues, idiot. Way to taunt him.
“No power issues, just sister ones … well, technically car ones. Hers has been playing up since I drove it to Canada, so she took mine because it’s my fault, and she didn’t want to take my baby niece to daycare in an Uber.” I stop mid-step, causing Cory, who was so close, to slam into me.
“You have a baby niece?”
“I do. Well, technically she’s a toddler not a baby, but yeah. She’ll always be my Baby Billie.”
“Huh.” My feet decide to move again, but my brain is still stuck calculating. Cory’s twenty-one. At what age does a baby become a toddler?
“If that constipated face is you doing the math, she was nineteen.” I feel my cheeks heat
“Sorry, it’s none of my business.”
“It’s not, no. But it’s no secret either. Cherry had been in love with the same boy since she was twelve. Derek was a few years older than her, but his family left town when she was fifteen. He moved back when she was old enough, and they got back together straight away. They were really happy … until she told him she was pregnant.”
We reach my car and he folds his surprisingly long legs into the passenger seat. Slumping his head against the seat he turns to face me.
“Didn’t take it well?”
“No he didn’t. Neither did his wife. The one he already had a kid with.” His clear outrage when he thought Dylan was my son, suddenly makes sense.
“Shit.”
“Yeah, shit.”
We drive in silence until Cory points out a small Italian place a block or two from his family home. “You won’t find better pasta anywhere in Boston.”
Great. A sit-down meal. I should be insisting on a quick drive-thru burger—In ‘n’ Out—in more ways than one.
“Italian sounds good.”
Italian sounds good.
As we scour the menu in the near-empty restaurant, James’s expression says otherwise. Perhaps it’s the romantic mood lighting, or the instrumental jazz that’s causing those adorable frown lines to pop. Either way, I’m not mad about it.
“What are you in the mood for?” I ask, hoping his answer aligns with what I want. A special something that’s definitely not an option.
“Arrabbiata, I think,” he replies without lifting his eyes. “You?”
“Well suck me sideways. I was thinking the same. I love a bit of heat.” James rolls his eyes for at least the tenth time today. “They’ll get stuck at the back of your head if you keep doing that.” He’s reaching for the hand made bread that Gwen, my favorite waitress, left us, but pauses and scowls. “Doing what?”
“Rolling your eyes, all sassy-like when I’m flirty.”
“You’re being flirty? Sorry I hadn’t noticed.”
Flailing dramatically, I clutch at my chest, while also accidentally on purpose rubbing my leg against the inside of his. “You’re brutal, Doc. I like it.”I like you.“Maybe I’ll have to try a little harder.”
“Maybe you will.”
