“I like real food.”
He smiles like I’ve just given him the answer he hoped for. “Two Platos Combinados.”
“Dos cervezas por favor,” I add and Cooper arches an eyebrow.
I shrug. “Don’t be too impressed. I can only order two beers and ask directions to the bathroom.” We sit down at one of the picnic tables with our heaping plates. The smell is incredible. “So how many other languages do you speak?”
“Two—French and Italian. And what did you just do?”
“Nothing.”
“I saw you tap your knuckles on the table. Did you just knock on wood?”
I do so many things on autopilot, I seriously didn’t even give it any thought. I suppose most people I surround myself with are either used to it, or don’t pay close enough attention to catch my little idiosyncrasies. I shrug, trying to make light of it. “It’s good luck.”
“I thought it was more of an expression than an actual thing.”
“It’s a thing,” I say defensively.
“Guess it’s more your thing, than mine.”
“What’s your thing then?”
He doesn’t respond. Well, at least not verbally. But his eyes drop to my mouth and his lips curl to just a hint of a grin when his gaze returns to mine … damn it’s sexy. My insides do funny things thinking of what his thing might be.
“So. Three languages.” I lift a tapas to my mouth. “Prep school brat?”
Cooper chuckles at my quite obvious attempt to change the subject, but goes along with me anyway. “Actually, just the opposite. My father thought our school system was too segregated, so he put us in public school in a lower income area. Thought it would teach us about real life more than spending our days with a bunch of silver spoons.”
“Wow. Totally wasn’t expecting that response.”
“Told you to watch out about those expectations.”
I bite into the first of a packed plate of tapas. “Oh my god. This is incredible.”
“I wouldn’t steer you wrong.”
I inhale two small tapas. “How did you find this place?”
“Carlos and Glorya have been in this spot for almost thirty years. It was my parents’ favorite place to eat. My father always told everyone that he fell in love with my mother because she never ordered a salad.”
“Smart woman.”
“My mother said he took her here because he was cheap.”
“Which one was the truth?”
He smiles. “Both.”
When I’ve devoured almost everything on my plate and am reaching for the last sip of my beer, Cooper’s fingers circle one of my wrists. “They’re so small.”
I have to blink myself out of the dirty thoughts seeing his hand locked around my wrist conjures up. I swallow hard. “Is that a problem?”
“Not at all. I was just thinking I could probably fit both in one hand.”
Flustered, I ignore his comment and change the subject. “It sounded like you haven’t been here in a while?”
He nods and looks around. “It’s definitely been too long.”
“Too busy being a tycoon?”
“A tycoon, huh?” Lifting an eyebrow, he grins. “How do you know I’m a tycoon?”
“I can just tell.” I pause, but Cooper neither confirms nor denies my assumption. “Am I wrong?”
“No, you’re not wrong, actually. And what do you do? Aside from hustling cards?”
“Playing cards is sort of my job these days,” I say, trying to act like it’s a choice I’ve made, instead of something that I dread doing daily. I’d much rather be finishing up school than spending my nights in the high-stakes room, flipping cards to men who deal out hundreds like candy. Especially since most of them seem to think their stack of chips will impress me.
“You’re a dealer?” He doesn’t seem surprised. After all, I told him who my father was the other night.
“For now. I was in school, but had to take some time off.”
He nods, accepting my response without further prodding.
Another hour passes by in what seems like five minutes. Our conversation jumps from topic to topic, but there’s a buzz in the air that makes everything seem like it has a sexual undertone to it. He’s playful, some of his flirting innuendo is intentional, but my mind seems to want to read something filthy into everything he says. I finally eye the time on my watch. “Shoot. I didn’t realize it was so late. I have to work tonight.”
He nods and offers me his hand to stand up. The way he doesn’t let go and we walk to the car with our hands twined makes me feel like a teenager again. He opens my car door and I stop before getting in. “I probably would have passed right by this place and never even noticed it. It’s sweet that you come to your parents’ favorite place.”
“Pretty sure I’ve never been called sweet by a woman.” Cooper adds with a wry grin, “But if you like sweet, I’ll take it.”
My heart is heavy when we pull up to my apartment building. Cooper gets out to open my car door.
“Thank you for kidnapping me.”
“Anytime.” He says. “Are you going to agree to go out with me now, or do I need to kidnap you again?” He takes a step closer to me. “That one little taste wasn’t enough.”
My eyes close with dread. Everything about this man seems perfect, and yet I have to turn him down. Again. When I signed the contract for the show, I didn’t give any thought to what would happen if I met someone. Most likely because I hadn’t met anyone worth worrying about the last year. But of course, now I meet a man who gives me butterflies. And I can’t tell him about the show. Just like dating, disclosure of my involvement with the show itself is a violation of the terms.