I want to tell him he doesn’t need to spend this kind of money on dinner, but I don’t want to insult him either, so I mash my lips together and say nothing.
Across from us, a party of ten is being seated, and I don’t miss how several of the women gawk at me, their eyes raking my body, and my ink, with barely concealed derision. Even though my dress is short, it isn’t revealing, but to them, I probably look like a hooker. I hold the skinny blonde’s gaze for longer than is socially acceptable, but she was rude first, staring at me like she couldn’t believe I have the nerve to sit here.
“You got a problem?” Kent asks, stabbing the woman with a dark expression. “Because I’ve got to say I don’t much like the way you’re looking at my date.”
Her eyes pop wide as she blatantly eye fucks Kent. “You’re a Kennedy,” she rasps in what she probably thinks is a sultry tone. To me, she sounds like she’s got a ten-pack-a-day habit.
“And you’re a rude bitch,” Kent says, standing. Deliberately turning his back to the woman, he pins his eyes on mine. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
I don’t need to be told twice. Grabbing my jacket, I hold my head up high as Kent escorts me from the place with his hand pressed protectively against my lower back.
“Fuck, Presley. I’m sorry about that,” he says when we’re outside.
“You don’t have to apologize. It’s not your fault.”
He takes my hand, lacing his fingers in mine, as he walks me back toward where he parked the car. “I asked my sister-in-law for advice on where to take you, and she suggested Moam. But Eva and my brother are older, and it’s more their kind of place. Definitely not mine.”
“Nor mine,” I agree. “It’s a beautiful place, and I’m sure the food is gorgeous, but I think the one-hundred-and-sixty-dollar steak would stick in my throat. I could buy groceries for two weeks with that.”
We pull up in front of his car, and he spins around so he’s facing me. “Does my money bother you?”
“It doesn’tbotherme. It’s just not something I’m used to, and like I said, I don’t need extravagant gifts or meals.” I gesture at myself. “This is me. I’m a no-frills kind of gal.”
Kent reels me in flush to his body, lightly landing his hands on my hips. “Don’t undersell yourself, Presley baby. You’re the real deal.”
I’m not sure what kind of emotion I’m conveying, but it’s enough for him to elaborate.
“I mean it. Most girls are only interested in me because they want sex, money, or celebrity. You want none of those things, and you have no idea how fucking amazing it is to meet someone with no agenda.”
“I never thought about that before,” I admit, placing my hands on his shoulders. I might as well take advantage of the opportunity while we’re pressed up against one another. “That sucks.”
“It does.” He leans his face in closer, and my heart stutters behind my rib cage. Blood thrums in my ears as his lips press against my cheek. Fiery tingles zip all over my face, and an embarrassing little whimper escapes my mouth.
Kent pulls back, his lips curling in amusement, but he doesn’t comment on it because a camera flash goes off in our faces, and he curses under his breath. Opening my door, he urges me inside. I watch through the window as he has a heated exchange with the guy holding the camera. It’s a professional camera, strapped around his neck, so I’m guessing this guy is a paparazzo.
“Fucking parasite,” Kent hisses, climbing behind the wheel.
“Is everything okay?”
Resting his hands on the wheel, he turns to face me. “That will probably show up online tomorrow. He was fishing for information about you, but I told him nothing.”
“Thanks, and don’t worry about it. I don’t care.”
He opens his mouth, then closes it, looking contemplative. Shaking his head, he starts the engine. “So, I know this little Italian place. It’s not much to look at, but the food is to die for, and—”
“Sounds perfect,” I say, smiling enthusiastically. “Let’s go.”
“This is more like it,” I admit, a half hour later when we’re tucked in a cozy little booth at the back of the quaint little Italian place, having just ordered. The room looks like it hasn’t had a makeover since the sixties, but the place is clean and warm, and it feels homey. More importantly, I don’t feel like I stick out here.
“I should’ve just taken you here in the first place,” Kent says, stretching his arm across the back of the booth behind me.
“Why didn’t you?”
“I wanted to impress you.”
A grin lets loose on my lips.
“What?”
