Page 8
Fuck, I’m nervous.
He was thirty-two years old. He’d been on plenty of dates. Sure, he hadn’t been on many since Margot started working for them, but that was neither here nor there.
Being nervous wasn’t something he was used to feeling. That sort of emotion could get him killed if he was out on a mission.
“Okay, that sounds good, but did you see that it’s pizza night?”
Immediately, he relaxed, and the sensation in his stomach settled down. “I like a good pizza. We could get a couple and then have leftovers. Nothing like cold pizza for breakfast.”
Her nose screwed up cutely, and he chuckled. Her eyes widened at the sound, as if shocked that he could actually laugh.
How often had he done that around her?
He could probably count on one hand how many times he’d done it—not very often.
“Do you have a favorite topping?” she asked, taking a sip of her wine.
“I like just about everything. How about you?” If anyone had told him by the end of the day he’d be discussing pizza toppings with Margot, he’d have looked at them and told them it was never going to happen.
Yet here he was, and he wasn’t even sorry about it. In fact, he was very glad about it.
“I don’t like bell peppers or onion on my pizza. It has to be tomato sauce base, not barbeque. But apart from that, I like anything. Although a classic margherita pizza is probably my favorite.”
“Well, how about we get a meat lovers and a margherita one?” He didn’t care what they ate, just that he was spending time with Margot.
“Sounds perfect.”
Before he could say anything, she’d whipped her phone out and had scanned the QR code on the table. As if aware of his scrutiny, she looked up and quirked an eyebrow, as if to ask if he had a problem with what she was doing.
There would be some guys who would be upset with a woman paying for their meal, but this wasn’t technically a date, so even though he’d asked her to join him for a drink, he was okay with it.
“Thank you,” she said, as she placed her phone on the table after ordering their food.
“For what?”
“For not objecting to me buying.”
It was on the tip of his tongue to say that he would buy next time, but he managed to stop himself. Instead, he shrugged and took a swallow of his beer. He would’ve liked to have something stronger, like a good bourbon, but he was driving, and so he’d opted for a light beer. He noticed that Margot was alternating between drinking her wine and soda water.
They sat in a comfortable silence, listening to the music, and Damon relaxed for the first time since Marian had dropped her bomb on him.
And just like that, the tension returned. Why had he allowed thoughts of his long-lost family to enter his mind and spoil the night?
Because avoidance is what you do.
Damon took another long swallow of his beer, not sure if he was angry at himself, or because his conscience was right.
Look at how long he’d avoided admitting his attraction to Margot?
She could’ve been lost to him before he’d had a chance to see if there was something between them, because he hadn’t missed the looks she’d given him. Nor had he missed her blushes.
“Are you regretting asking me for a drink?”
The buzz of conversation of the people around him penetrated the fog he’d been in. “No, why?”
“You looked at me like you were angry I was breathing.”
Fuck, how had he not known he was looking at her?
