Page 28 of Beautiful Deceit
"Hey," he answers. We are both just standing, looking at each other. Awkward doesn’t begin to describe it.
"Well I was about to eat. Hungry?" I don't know what the hell else to do, and now I'm not even going to be able to enjoy my food, because I am nervous with a belly full of butterflies.
"I don't want to eat your food."
I scoff, "Why the hell not? There's nothing wrong with my food."
Beau tips his head back and groans, "Good god woman. I meant, I don't want to eat what you've made for yourself, not that I don't want it."
My shoulders fall, "Oh, okay. Well there's plenty, let me just grab some plates.”
I pull the chicken and potatoes from the warming drawer. Then reach up to grab a couple plates from the cabinet.
I turn to see Beau's eyes dart up quickly to my face.
"Fucking shit," I say aloud. I didn't even make it two minutes. His eyes are bright as he bites his lip in an attempt to suppress a smile. "Go ahead," I lift my hand in a wave. "Laugh it up, you jackass. You didn't have to look ya know." Pull my hem down, but it's useless.
He nods his head, "Oh trust me. I did."
I roll my eyes and huff. "Like a thirteen-year-old huh?" I say under my breath referring to our first meeting.
"He couldn't help it either," great, he heard me.
"Oh piss off, I know my ass is big. Sit down before I decide you don't get any."
Beau throws his head back and roars with laughter, exposing his thick neck to me. It’s one of my many weaknesses when it comes to this man. If I wasn't wiping the dribbles from my chin I might have realized sooner what I said that caused his hilarity.
"Oh, ha ha," I grumble realizing the innuendo too late. I set about making our plates, he's still chuckling. I ignore him.
I take my plate and grab a big glass of sweet tea, then walk past the dining table to the sofa.
A few seconds later he joins me.
"Thank you for dinner," he says before he's even taken a bite.
"Anytime," I reply without thinking. I don’t regret this offer the same way I did with Nate.
I look away from his face and cut a small bit of chicken.
"Did you have a good time?” He asks casually.
"With what?" I know exactly what he's asking, but I'm not going to make it easy on him.
"Your date," the word date is spat from his mouth.
"I don't know if I'd call it a good time----" I leave the response hanging.
"Oh? What would you call it?" I'm kinda in a corner here. I could lie and tell him I had a great time or I could tell him the truth.
"Why do you wanna know?” I say after biting the tip off a spear of asparagus. I'm stalling.
He shrugs
I sigh, "It was pretty horrible. I don't have much to compare it to, but I wanted to go home before he asked for the bill." His eyes crinkle as he grins. "Somehow we got on the topic of ferrets and feet." I shudder, "I think they were related.” I finish with, “The worst part is he kept complaining to our waiter about how when his mom makes his sandwich, she always adds just the right amount of mustard." I slide my hand across the other indicating the spread.
"What the fuck is he doing with a ferret and feet?"
I throw my hands in the air, "I know right. He lets his ferret sleep on his feet."
