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“Are we at least finished?”
My stomach chooses that exact moment to growl loudly, and without missing a beat, Mr. Middleton says to Parker, “Go to El Palo.”
El Palo is one of those restaurants that you read about A-list actors eating at in a celebrity blog. It’s a restaurant that’s impossible for regular folks to get into, especially without a reservation. I think Jennifer Lopez got engaged to one of her husbands there.
“Wait, what?”
My head is spinning at all these new developments and I’m still a bit rattled by what happened at school today. I really just want to go back home at this point and crawl into bed.
When we reach the restaurant, I stare at the decorative exterior before glancing at my boss. “My entire week’s paycheck will not even cover a meal in there. I’m not comfortable eating here.”
Mr. Middleton ignores me and simply gets out the truck and waits for me to exit the vehicle. It’s probably the first time todaythat I’ve actually really looked at him. It’s hot as hades today but he’s dressed in a navy suit with a light blue collared shirt that fits like it was made for him. I don’t usually go for guys that are corporate looking, but leave it to Mr. Middleton to make a suit look badass. He looks incredible.
“Can’t I just get a hot dog?”
“No one should just eat a hot dog, and if we all did things we were comfortable doing, there’d be no personal growth.”
“I just want something fast,” I counter.
“Miss Taylor.”
There’s a warning in his voice, and I have no choice but to slide out of my seat. It’s clear that I’m fighting a losing battle. The maitre’d who sees us immediately jumps to attention.
“Welcome back to El Palo, Mr. Middleton. We have your usual table ready.”
I expect him to look at my clothes with at least some level of disdain but he doesn’t so much as flinch, yet when we follow him past the other tables, the other well-dressed diners do raise their brows at me.
I’m not usually that easily embarrassed but I suddenly feel out of place. We are taken to a large corner booth which could probably fit a party of six easily but there is only a place setting for two. My ears feel hot as I slide in and he follows right behind me. Once we’re seated, Lars and Parker go sit at the bar where they can keep an eye on us.
“Why are we here?” I ask him in a low voice.
He slides closer to me as if he can’t hear me. “Come again?”
“I said, why did you pick this restaurant?”
He leans in, his lips dangerously close to my earlobe. “You were hungry.”
My core becomes engorged with need, and the crotch of my jeans suddenly feels tight between my legs.
“I mean…aren’t you hungry?” He suggestively licks the corner of his mouth.
On so many levels, the answer to that question is a resounding yes.
“I would’ve been fine with a hotdog or a pizza,” I say miserably, feeling uncomfortable in my own skin.
“Have you ever eaten here before, Miss Taylor?” He questions. “Do you not like this place?”
Still sitting dangerously close to me, he hands me one of the thick menus already on the table.
“It seems really expensive,” I mutter, squirming in my seat, unable to meet his gaze. The way he looks at me, especially when he’s this physically close, it’s difficult for me to hold it.
I’m not usually that type of girl, but with Mr. Middleton, I am. With each passing day, he intimidates me in a way that I don’t recognize about myself.
“Well, it’s on me,” He tells me when the server actually hands us two additional menus. One is solely for wine and the other lists the specials of the day.
“Do you do this for all your managers?” I stare at the main menu and almost choke on my own saliva at the prices.
When he doesn’t answer, I turn my head only to find him still watching me. I have a feeling if I probe him more, I just might poke this temperamental bear, so I stick my head back in the menu and try to find the least expensive dish.
