All I can say is, “Oh...”
“Would you like me to order you some take-away? There’s a lovely Indian restaurant around the corner.”
I shake my head. “Did he say why he can’t go out?”
“Too much work, I’m afraid.” The regret in her eyes says it all. My dad chose not to have dinner with me, and she knows it.
I rise from the couch and make a beeline for the elevator, hoping to reach it before the tears start to fall. As the doors glide shut, my eyes erupt.
I am so fucking dumb.
From the moment I got here, it was obvious to everyone that my dad wanted nothing to do with me. I should’ve taken the hint and gone straight back to the airport, and I never should’ve gotten my hopes up about dinner. He would rather win the Worst Dad of the Century Award than be forced to share a meal with me.
The sad truth has been staring me in the face this whole time. If my dad had wanted me in his life, he would’ve made room for me.
But he doesn’t, so he didn’t.
The elevator chimes as it reaches the ground floor. I dry my cheeks and step into the lobby, keeping my head down in the hopes that no one will look too closely at me.
I’m almost at the exit when a man calls out, “Miss Ruby!”
Cursing under my breath, I plaster on a polite smile just as Mr. Murdoch catches up to me.
“You look gorgeous,” he says, heat flaring in his gaze. “Are you meeting your dad for dinner? I just left him in his office.” A splash of concern cools the fire in his eyes. “Have you been crying?”
I touch my cheek and find it damp. Mr. Murdoch reaches into his jacket and pulls out a thin packet of tissues, which he hands to me. “Thanks.” I dab my eyes. “We were supposed to have dinner, but he cancelled.”
A look of disappointment crosses his handsome face. “He’d better have given you damn good reason for cancelling.”
I shrug. His expression hardens for a moment before relaxing again, this time with fresh resolve. He offers me his arm, like he’s my own personal knight in shining armor.
“Most of the top chefs in this city are personal friends of mine,” he says. “I’m sure one can find us a table.”
“Wait, no, that’s...” As eager as I am to get closer to Brian, I don’t want him asking me out because he feels sorry for me. “You don’t have to do that.”
“I know I don’t. But I want to.”
I’m not sure what to say. The thought of going to dinner with Brian Murdoch makes my stomach—and other parts—flutter, but I refuse to be his pity date.
He takes my hand since I won’t take his arm. Judging from the way he’s looking at me, like he’s torn between trying to read my mind and picturing me naked, I think he might be telling the truth. He’s obviously attracted to me, and although his attention makes me nervous, there’s no point in pretending I’m not attracted to him, too.
No point other than the fact that he’s my father’s boss.
Breathing deeply, I stand up straighter, attempting to hold myself like a grown-ass woman of eighteen, when on the inside, I feel like a little girl lost in the outback.
“Thank you, Mr. Murdoch. I’d like to have dinner with you, too.”
Still holding my hand, he moves us toward the exit.
“Call me Brian.”
Chapter Three
I let Mr. Murdoch—I mean Brian—order for us, and then restrain myself to a few bites of each tapas-style dish. If I were back at my dad’s house, I’d be gorging myself on an entire cheese pizza, but I don't want Brian to think I'm taking advantage of him. He’s the reason I’m not stuck at home, alone with a pizza, and for that, I want him to know I’m grateful.
“Is this your first time visiting your dad in Sidney?” he asks.
“My first time visiting him ever.”