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“Hey, if you can stick around, I can fix it tonight. You know, since I offered you a rescue.” I forced myself to watch her reaction. How did she feel about spending an evening with me while I worked on her car?
Her eyes widened. “Really, you’d stay late for me?” She seemed genuinely touched.
“Yeah, ’slong as we can eat some food first.”
Twisting her lips to the side, she said, “I guess my other dinner plans are shot. Can we eat inside, though? It feels unsanitary to eat out here around all the...” She gestured her arms around.
And I had to chuckle. It wasn’t rare for us to scarf down a snack between jobs. Something about Della’s finer sensibilities was refreshing and incredibly attractive.
“Let’s go to the waiting room, Princess,” I teased.
With a roll of her eyes, she picked up the takeout bags, placing the strap through her middle finger. I let her walk ahead, if only so I could see the swish of her dress over her hips. But I quickly realized how bad of an idea that was when all I could picture was lifting that dress up. Digging my fingers into her soft flesh. Pulling her onto my?—
She was reaching for the door, but I got ahead of her just enough to pull it open. In response, she gave me an appreciative smile. “So there is a gentleman in there somewhere,” she teased.
The compliment pleased me far more than it should. “Dad taught me some manners.”
She sat down at one of the tables in the waiting area and began untying the bag. “Your fries are probably soggy by now.”
I shrugged, strangely unbothered. “What did you get?”
She opened one of the takeout containers. “Mozzarella sticks. With ranch.”
“You and Liv,” I said. “I swear she has ranch with everything.”
“It’s the superior dressing,” Della agreed, a sense of finality to her tone. It had me chuckling.
“You take your sauces seriously,” I said.
“Is there any other way to take them?”
A wicked thought crossed my mind and made a smirk form on my lips.
“Hayes Madigan,” she chided.
I shook my head at her. “Why do you always call me by my full name?” I finally asked.
She lifted a corner of her lips. “Because you’re an enigma. It’s like calling Evel Knievel just ‘Evel.’ Doesn’t make as much sense.”
I lifted my burger from the box. “I can’t tell if that’s a compliment or not.”
She shrugged. “Maybe it’s both.”
A short silence hung between us while we chewed our food. I wanted to get to know her better, to hear more of her thoughts and perspectives. But an uncomfortable feeling took over my chest—like I was trying to write with my left hand for the first time and the words were coming out all jumbled and juvenile. I didn’t know how to do this and definitely didn’t know how to do it the right way, without crossing any lines.
But damned if I wasn’t going to try. “How did you get interested in the insurance business?”
She gave me a look like the question sounded just as awkward as I felt. But then she swirled a deep-fried stick of cheese through a puddle of ranch. “How does anyone get interested in work? I was out of college, and there was a job open.” Her shoulders lifted, making her red curls move. “At first, it was a job to pay the bills, and I really liked working with Edna. The people we served were nice—for the most part. And I was good at it. Am good at it. I don’t know what else I would do if I had a choice to change careers.” She smiled slightly to herself. “What about you? Did you always want to do this?” She gestured around at the waiting room.
“Eat dinner with a pretty girl?” I held eye contact with her. “That was all I ever wanted to do.”
A look of surprise crossed her face for a moment, but she quickly wiped it away. “You know what I meant.”
Hmm. So she wasn’t shying away from the compliment. But I realized she was waiting for my answer, so I wiped a crumb from my mouth and said, “I was always shit at school. It wasn’t that I was stupid—I was bored. I couldn’t see how any of it mattered. And then we had a shop class my senior year. Most kids took it as a fuck around class, but for me, it was the first time I felt like something I was learning could actually be used in the real world. I got my first—and only—A. Mr. Smith taught the class part time while running this garage, and he offered me a job. Kind of took me under his wing. From there, it was pretty obvious what I should do.”
Her lips parted. “I didn’t know that about you.”
I lifted a shoulder. “Turns out there’s more to me than a pretty face.”