“I think the lady should order first.”
“I’ll take a water, please.”
Beau chuckled, the cleft in his chin deepening. “I’m buying, so order whatever you want.”
“Thanks, but I don’t drink.”
He shrugged, ordered beers for the rest of the table, and turned his full attention on her again. “Hi.”
“Hi,” she half whispered, uncomfortable under his attention. Not uncomfortable like she was with George. That was repulsion mixed with the panic of having a spider in your hair. This uncomfortable feeling came from knowing he could see right through her act. Like he knew she wasn’t some fancy-pants woman.
The other three took their seats around the table, with Mark ending up on her left. He smelled of some manly cologne and leather.Heaven help me. Where does a guy pick up the smell of leather?Beau was bad enough with his cocky grin and expensive cologne, but she could write him off as a man looking for a fling.
Mark was something else altogether. He was … interesting. Taking a deep breath, she reminded herself that today was aboutliving like the other half, about being in a fairy tale, and by darn it she had on her sparkle pants. She was on the verge of introducing herself to Mark with a confident handshake when Beau leaned forward.
“Anthony, Mark, this is Allie and she doesn’t drink,” said Beau. Allie gave them all her brightest smile. “I do eat, though. Pass me a slice, will you?” She directed her words to Anthony—the least threatening
of the three because of the ring on his left hand.
She should have sat by him. Way less pressure over there. George would have killed her, though. He was as enamored as a fifteen year-old boy and just as ready to shove her to the ground for talking tohisAnthony. He took a large bite and then talked around the food. “How’d spring training go this year, Anthony?”
The guys leaned over the table, reminding Allie of her older brother and his friends. She leaned back, enjoying the meal, content to let George have his moment. At least with him here, she didn’t have to make conversation.
Just as she took a large bite of pizza, Mark turned to her and asked, “Are you a baseball fan?”
Choking, she took a sip of water to clear her throat. Mark Dubois was looking at her with his vibrant blue eyes, guarded though they were. Although what he thought he needed protection from she didn’t know. Nor did she understand how she got that vibe from him so easily. Taking in his broad shoulders and sinewy forearms, she assumed he could protect himself just fine without having to put up walls.
Shewouldn’t mind being protected by those arms. Stifling a giggle, she took another drink of water before she realized she hadn’t answered him. “I’m sorry, what did you ask?”
Mark inclined his head. When the curtain had opened and Allie squealed, he’d brushed her off as another crazed fan. But when their eyes met across the restaurant, he’d practically tripped into her gaze. That had never happened before—not to him.
“Do you like baseball?” he repeated, wondering if he’d stuttered. He might have; his tongue was thick.
“Sure, go Braves.” Her fist punched the air and stayed there. After a moment, she tucked her palms under her legs.
“What do you like to do?” he tried again.
Glancing up at him from lowered lashes, she practically whispered, “I don’t really know.”
Interesting. Was she a workaholic? Was she dating someone? “What’s your job?” Usually the fans were the ones pepperinghimwith questions, but he couldn’t stop them from coming. Allie glowed. Not in the glimmer and-gloss way that Aspen liked, but there was this light that she put out in the world. He couldn’t explain how, and yet she was shining away like a beacon.
“I’m a waitress.”
A waitress? He looked her over. She didn’t look like any waitress he’d ever seen. “Not your dream job?” he ventured.
“Heavens no.” She reached for the crust left on her plate and tore off small bits, her hands trembling.
Her response left him wondering what she would do if she could do what she wanted. Did she have a dream job? Did she have dreams? “What do you do on your days off?”
Allie stared at him. “Do you really want to know? I mean, you don’t have to talk to me if you’d rather talk to them.” She gestured towards the guys.
Mark stared back. He hadn’t met a person so unassuming in his life. “I really want to know,” he replied, leaning closer.
“All right, then.” She glanced up and then quickly away.
He wanted her gaze back, wanted that link to her, and found himself frustrated that she’d taken it away.
“I work as the maintenance person for the building I live in. So I clean out drains and stuff like that.” She made a funny face.
