“I’m sorry for disrespecting you.” He doesn’t look at me. He doesn’t stop playing with Chance, and for that, I’m thankful. “I don’t say things like that usually, but you got me a little wound up, so I snapped back.”
“Ditto, I guess. Mac, sit down.” I press a hand to my son’s face and push until he plops down with a grunt. “Actually, get up. I told you to go to school already.”
“Happy belated birthday, by the way.” Eric’s tone is so quiet, I have to almost lean in to catch his words. “I didn’t know that’s why you were heading out early. I hope you had a nice night.”
“I did.” I accept my son’s kiss as he slides out of his booth and swings his backpack onto his shoulders. Watching him walk away with his head bowed low but a smile on his face, I don’t turn back to Eric until the newly installed glass door swings closed and my son flashes a peace symbol as he walks away.
Marc and Meg’s baby son is almost a year old, looks like a round butterball of perfection, has luscious dark hair and bright hazel eyes. His gaze flips from me to Eric, back and forth, as he dribbles all over himself and giggles about it.
“We watched a movie and ate cake.”
“I like your new necklace.” And still, he doesn’t look at me. “A gift?”
Bringing a hand up, I finger the seven rings and nod. “Yes, from my son. Who’s still standing on the street watching us right now.”
I thrust my arm and point in the direction of school until he throws his head back on an “ugh!” and turns away.
“Hey, handsome.” Stepping forward and reminding me of her presence, Meg reaches out for her baby with a sly grin. “It’s time for me to go. Work to do, people to annoy. Ya know, busy busy busy.”
“Uh-huh.”
“Call me later.” She turns to me and flashes a dirty grin. “I wanna gossip.”
“I’d rather not,” I reply dryly. Watching her lift Chance with a grunt, then hug the chunky baby to her side, I keep my trap shut as she smacks my ass and flashes a wink that says I should fuck Eric in this very booth. Sashaying the way only Meg can, she leaves Eric and I alone amid awkward silences and weird throat-clearing.
Wringing my hands, I give up trying to think of something to say, so I snatch up my coffee pot and turn.
“Wait.” He grabs my apron and yanks me to a stop. Dragging me back slowly, he watches every move I make. He’s a quiet man, deliberate in his movements, and thoughtful before he says or does something he’s not sure he wants to commit to. Except, perhaps, when I rile him up and he speaks of cobwebs in my vagina. Eric DeWhit has a tight grip on control… until he doesn’t.
When he pulls me back around and my thighs touch his table, he lets his eyes roam my body, warm my chest, and stop on my eyes. “I feel like we have a whole bunch of baggage despite the fact we barely know each other.”
“I think maybe I took my ex’s baggage and plonked it on your head.”
His lips twitch with the ghost of a smile. “I think so too. It’s not really fair, but I have broad shoulders, so I’ll take it, then I’ll push it off again and prove I’m worthy. I’m not a deadbeat, Kat.” His eyes soften. “May I call you Kat?”
“No.” Lord, give me strength, Iwantto flirt with this man. Iwantto like him. “I’d rather you didn’t. My ex calls me Kat when he’s trying to be a condescending prick.”
Approval shines in his eyes because I’m finally giving him something other than sass. “Fair call. Katrina it is, with a side ofbeautifulevery now and again when I’m feeling a little more verbose.” I feel the heat sneak into my cheeks, but he doesn’t mention it. “I’m not a deadbeat, okay? I’m not a user. I’m not unemployed. I’m not looking for a couch to crash on or a family to mooch off. I’m not looking to use you. I just like the burgers around here, and the waitress is so fucking beautiful, she makes my blood run hot. You don’t have to think the same of me. You don’t have to be interested, but if youare, now’s a good time for me to mention that I’m single and have no STDs.”
I choke out a small cough.
“I’m just a dude who likes pretty things. That’s all this has to be.”
“I’m sorry I said mean things about you.”
He rewards me with a handsome grin and pulls me closer so my knees touch his thigh. “You weren’t the first to fling shit at me. You won’t be the last. I don’t bruise easily, so you’re okay.”
“I’m sorry for implying you’re a shitty person because you’re old and not yet married.”
“I’m not old!” he snaps. “Jesus, you think I’m old?”
“I mean…” I nibble on my bottom lip and draw his eyes down. “You’re in that window is all I meant. Not old. But not twenty-four, either.”
“I’m thirty-eight.”
I do the quick math in my head. Thealgebra, even. “You were in third grade when I was born.”
His face wrinkles.