Page 25 of Bad Influence
“That’s him,” I confirm.
“I said no,” Killian says through gritted teeth. I swallow my irritation, looking away from him. I don’t know why he’sbehaving this way. Granted, I don’t know Luke or his work ethic, but that’s why you have internships, trainings, and a probationary period.
Eve looks between the two of us as an awkward silence descends.
“Well,” she says. “I’m done here, so I should go. Lil is waiting for me.”
She grabs her purse from under the counter and her jacket from the coat hanger on her way out. Killian and I stand in silence, the lights dim around us. I cross my arms, looking at him expectantly, waiting for him to explain himself.
“That was incredibly rude,” I say.
“You don’t even know Luke,” he counters.
“Do you?”
“No, which is why I’m not randomly offering him a job.”
I stay quiet because I know he’s right. I’m not entirely wrong, but I don’t know why I’m butting into his business. It’s like a part of me wants to argue with him over stupid things and that’s not like me at all. If anything, I’ve learned to keep my emotions locked away.
“You said you wanted to talk?” I ask.
Killian frowns and for a second, I think he’s disappointed I backed off so easily. Crazy, I know. My mind wants to give him emotions which probably aren’t there.
“Are you hungry?” He asks.
I want to deny and refuse to eat with him out of principle. I don’t, though, because I actually am hungry. I nod, grabbing my purse and pulling on my sweater. I shiver as we step out of the shop after Killian has locked up and turned on the security alarm. There’s a chill in the air now that the sun is starting to set. The sky is painted a rainbow of pinks and oranges in the distance.
Somewhere nearby, a bar is playing incredibly loud music. I hear laughter and shouts, footsteps running on the sidewalk. It makes me realize how far I am from home. According to myparents and Beckett, anything less than five stars or a Michelin was seedy.
“Come on,” Killian says.
He leads me in the opposite direction of where we came from this morning. Everything around us is gray. The pinks and violets of flowers blooming in window boxes and planters add some much-needed color. They stand out against the dullness of the concrete.
I’m looking everywhere as we walk, my head constantly spinning around, observing everything around me. I want to be able to come back here on my own.
Killian leads me to a bar on a street corner, its once vibrant red logo now faded. The red awning over the door looks new, there are lots of people dining on the patio, lost in their conversations.
There are stairs leading up to the door and Killian opens it, ushering me inside. It’s crowded, music playing softly on the speakers, some sports playing on the TVs above the bar. The hostess leads us to a table in the back, which thankfully is next to a window looking out onto the street.
I hate sitting in the middle of a restaurant. I feel like everyone is watching me.
“Your server will be right with you,” the hostess says. “Can I get you something to drink in the meantime?”
I look at Killian and he glances back at me, waiting for me to order something. I stare at him blankly, in a mild panic. I’ve never ordered at a restaurant before.
“We’ll start with water,” Killian tells her.
She nods and leaves.
“Thanks,” I mumble, my face heating slightly. It’s embarrassing to never have ordered for myself before. My mother always ordered for me, and then Beckett took over after we got engaged. My opinion mattered very little.
“What do you want to eat?” Killian asks. He’s looking at the menu. Though, why do I suspect he’s not actually reading it?
I pick up my menu and look over it. There are a lot of delicious options, and I suddenly want to order everything.
“How about the mushroom smash burger?” I look up at him in confirmation or approval, I don’t know which. I also don’t know why I do it because it’s not like Killian cares what I order.
He’s not going to tell me I’m going to bloat if I eat carbs or that I shouldn’t eat such heavy meals for dinner and stick to a salad. He’s not going to compare me to his colleagues' wives or girlfriends and tell me I should try harder to look like them because they take care of their bodies.
