“It’s too much.”
“What is?”
“Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I can’t eat here. A meal here will cost more than I spend on groceries for a month for Sam and me.”
“Don’t worry?—”
“Don’t worry about it. I know. But see, the more I hear those words, the more I will worry. I know that this kind of money is nothing to you. I know that it won’t make a dent. But I can’t let you buy me a meal here. I already feel like Julia Roberts inPretty Woman.”
“You feel like a prostitute?” He says this loud enough that the couple in the next table turn their heads.
I can feel my face turn beet red. “Oh, look who finally got a pop culture reference,” I hiss, sinking down in my chair. “No, I don’t feel like a prostitute. But I’m just not comfortable with this shift in our dynamic. Last week you were paying me for physio sessions. Now we’re on a date. And even though I know that you would never…expect a return on your investment, I don’t feel comfortable being wined and dined like this. Not when our relationship has changed. Not with sex on the table.”
He goes very still. “Table sex? Really?”
Kill. Me. Now.
“Are we talking about that flimsy excuse for a physio table back at your place? Or this one right here?” He gives the table a little shake like he’s testing its sturdiness and I’m looking for the nearest exit. That’s when I see the glint of laughter in his normally serious eyes.
Arthur is being playful.
I bury my face in my hands. “I’m sorry.”
“For what?”
“For the ridiculous things that come out of my mouth.”
His hand closes around my arm and gently tugs my hand away from my face. Why did he have to be so perfect? Why do I have to be so awkward? So damaged. I’m about to thank him for a lovely evening…or eight minutes, when he tilts his head toward the door.
“Let’s get out of here.”
“Really?”
“Yeah.”
“And go where?”
He pushes to stand. “I’ve got a place in mind.”
“What about our reservation?”
“Don’t worry. I’ll tell them we need to leave and apologize for the inconvenience.”
He pulls my chair back and offers me his hand. When I take it, I find that I can breathe again. I feel not only seen but heard.
“Thank you.”
He smirks. “Don’t thank me yet.”
“You’re not goingto tell me where you’re taking me?”
“Nope.”
I try to frown at him, but it’s hopeless. My feet are throbbing from the short walk from the restaurant to Arthur’smonsterof a truck, but now I’m tucked into the warm cab, cocooned in the glow of the dashboard lights. The city glides past my window in soft streaks of gold and white. The heated seat is defrosting me and I can’t help but feel content despite not knowing where we’re going.
I let out a long sigh and sink deeper. “Okay.”
“Seriously? That’s it? You’re not even going to attempt to get it out of me?”
