Page 17 of Pretend You're Mine
“Seriously,” Xander said. “It’s fine. Just takes some time to get the hang of it.”
The young redhead beamed at Xander, as if he was about to pounce on him in a one-sided hug, and then hurried off, probably to get more napkins.
As Xander sat on the only other chair there, the one beside me, I peered into his face with surprise. “You’re not mad?”
Xander flashed his brows. “You really think I’m a complete dick, don’t you?”
“Not completely,” I said, only half-joking.
Xander’s face showed no surprise. “I get that a lot. Probably because I can be. But for things like that, ” he glanced to his shoes. “I’ve been in that guy’s position. We all have at one point. There’s no reason to be a jackass about it. My shoes will dry.”
“You’ve been in his position? Like you’ve had to serve people?” Somehow, I could not reconcile that with the man that sat before me.
Xander open his mouth, then closed it. As if shifting gears, he said, “How did you start out?”
Damn, how had I started out?
“Probably back at Domino’s,” I said. “Lasted a week. They didn’t like the way I put the pepperonis on the pizza.”
“And look at you now,” Xander said.
We both cracked up.
“As for my salon, I’ve been expertly cutting and styling my Barbies’ hair, and Teren’s when he was asleep, since I was eight at least. That’s why I called my hair studio ‘Eighteen’, since it took that long for me to realize my dream.”
I nibbled on a stick of celery that was garnish on my plate. “Although it’s going to go back into dreamland if I don’t work hard. Rent is a bitch in the downtown core.”
Xander nodded. “You’re telling me. Are you good at cutting and styling?”
“No,” I said. “I take pride in ruining any good hair my clients come to me with. I’m trying to be different from all the other salons out there.”
He smirked. “Ok, that was a stupid question.”
“Why,” I said. “You looking for a new stylist?”
He was all poker face again, saying only, “Maybe.”
Once our meals were delivered; two plates of magazine-worthy pan-fried salmon with roasted garlic potatoes and glossy asparagus. Although without our conversation to distract me, Xander’s closeness took center stage. His leg was basically pressed against mine, and I couldn’t tell if it was just because there wasn’t that much room on that side of the table, or because he wanted to touch me somehow.
I decided to concentrate on my dinner instead of trying to figure it out. Following that former thought to where it was going to lead would do me no good. Xander and I were just keeping up appearances, like how most of our conversation had just been us covering the basics.
And yet, the muscle in Xander’s jaw seem to be tensed more than before, and when he ordered dessert, I couldn’t shake an uneasy feeling.
“You sure?” I asked. “Really, I don’t need any. If you’d rather just take me home, that’s fine with me.”
A delicious smile spread across Xander’s face. I really needed to get over how good he looked when he smiled. “Nobody ever needs dessert. But we all want it; that little bit of decadence on our lips.”
His gaze flickered to my lips. At least, I’d though it did. Good thing I hadn’t had a second glass of wine or I’d have probably leapt across the table and landed in his lap.
A few minutes later, a massive portion of chocolate pudding cake was being swept in front of us.
“Looks delicious,” Xander said.
I kept my gaze locked firmly on the gooey interior of the pudding cake, especially since I had a nagging feeling that his wasn’t. Before I could protest, his spoon had appeared in front of mine, taken a portion, and offered it up to my still-closed lips. Our gazes met.
“Come on, take a bite” he said.
There was something in the way he said it and held my gaze, that made me think that the dessert wasn’t the only thing he was offering.
I couldn’t stop myself from parting my lips and closing them around the chocolate. As the rich decadence seeped into my taste buds, his leg pressed harder against mine.
It’s not real, I reminded myself, although the voice in my head wasn’t as certain this time.
“What about you?” I said, spooning out a portion and bringing it up to his lips. His mouth snapped down on it, his gaze never breaking eye contact with mine.
Then, he rose.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“Getting a container so we can take the rest to go.”
Seeing my face, he said, “Unless you want to stay?”
Right then, I couldn’t tell what the hell I wanted, so I only said, “Taking it to go works.”
Xander paid the bill and then we hurried from the restaurant to his car. He opened the door for me and I felt a jolt of electricity as his hand touched me lower back, guiding me down into the seat. He ran around to the driver’s side and climbed in himself, handing me the container of dessert.
