“Good,” I say, clearing my throat because the air feels hot all of a sudden. “I hope you’re hungry, baby,” I say, smiling slyly.
He nods, smirking at me.
“Fucking starving.”
I don’t waste a second as I unbuckle myself and get out, hurrying to his side before he can open his door, and he cocks his head, shifting some golden hair out of his eyes. I settle my hand on the small of his back, gently guiding him forward. He doesn’t jump like I expect him to. Instead, he leans into my space, and I get a heady whiff of his cologne. He smells like vanilla and musk; spicy and sweet at the same time.
I like it more than I should. I likehimmore than I probably should.
Dinner goes well, as I knew it would. Callahan’s isn’t my favorite place in the city, but I can’t deny they have some badass burgers here, and I’m a sucker for a good burger.
Jacob opts for a bowl of carbonara and the conversation is so smooth and easy, I almost feel like heismy boyfriend.
Yeah, this guy is worth every fucking penny.
“So,” he says as he twirls a piece of pasta on his fork. “I have to ask, even though I don’t have time to do it—”
“What?” I ask, between bites of my burger.
“One of the things I always ask my clients upon booking, apart from their basic info—” He looks up at me. “Is what their idea of a perfect date is.”
I blink as I swallow my bite.
I think about his question, unsure how to answer. I’ve been on plenty of dates with guys—and even some girls when I was in middle school—but I’ve never really thought much about what a perfect date would be. And honestly, until this moment, no one’s ever asked me what Iwanted.I was always the one focused on giving and making sure everything was perfect.
And look what good that did me.
“I don’t know,” I say, stealing another bite of my burger. “Guess I never really gave it much thought.”
“Bullshit,” he says, shoving a forkful of pasta into his mouth. He slurps the noodle, and I can’t help watch as his cheeks hollow and my damn cock voices its opinion of what he thinks a perfect date would be.
“Everyone’s given it thought.”
I shrug. “Have you?”
Jacob swallows his pasta. “Of course.”
I say nothing, waiting for him to continue, but he doesn’t.
“Well?” I gesture to him with my hand and he blinks.
“Oh, you want those kinds of details? That’s extra, baby,” he says with a wink, and for a minute, I think he’s serious before he busts out laughing and takes a sip of his wine.
“I’m just fucking with you,” he says, laughing lightly. I’m not sure if it’s the wine, the dinner, or just Jacob, but I’ve never felt so on the spot before. I laugh because people rarely get one over on me, but Jacob just did.
Little asshole.
I open my wallet, pull out three one hundred dollar bills and slap them on the table in front of him. He looks at the bills then at me.
“Three hundred for your thoughts, Cinderella.” I lean back in my seat, meeting his gaze.
“There’s more where that came from, you know,” I say with a grin. “You can joke with me all you want, but I put my money where my mouth is. Always.”
Jacob looks at the bills before him, then back at me.
“So, tell me.” I motion for him to continue. He carefully picks the bills up and folds them, sliding them into his pocket. His demeanor shifts a fraction, and I wonder if I did something wrong, but before I can ask, his smile and enthusiasm returns.
“Promise you won’t laugh.” He raises an eyebrow.
