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He smiles, and the dimple in his chin pops. “Yeah. You know—drop-dead gorgeous, funny, intelligent. Did I already say drop-dead gorgeous?”
Before I can reply, my phone vibrates on the table, shocking us both into a nervous giggle. “I’m sorry, Jacob, it could be my mom.”
“Of course. Go ahead.”
I flip the phone over, and the mild hammering of my heart turns into a full-blown gallop as I read the text from Drake.
I need you. Now. Work emergency.
That’s bizarre. I was super careful to make sure everything was up to speed before I left the office today. We’ve both been keeping our distance while being polite and professional and have put a lot of effort into maintaining whatever equilibrium we have left. So if Drake says there’s a work emergency, I better not piss him off by ignoring him. The truce is fragile.
“Is everything okay?” Jacob asks.
“Yeah, don’t worry. I do need to make a quick call though. If you’ll excuse me? I’ll just be a second.”
“Of course, go for it.”
Jacob might be a little forgetful and he might be cute rather than panty-melting, but the smile he gives me as I stand up is warm and genuine. This is a man who would have realistic expectations of what I could give him, unlike the demanding man who has just messaged me. Jacob is here, he’s emotionally available, and he’s way more in my league. Plus, he thinks I’m drop-dead gorgeous.
I walk to the ladies’ room, figuring I’ll freshen up while I contact Drake. I don’t want to end my date and go to the office if I can avoid it.
I quickly tap out a message.
What’s the problem? Can I fix it tomorrow? I don’t mind coming in on a Saturday.
I stare at the screen and wait for a reply, annoyed that the man can exert so much power over me without being present. I’m imagining him as he texts, maybe with that slightly annoyed scowl he gets when things don’t work out exactly how he wantsthem to. The one that says he’s right and you know it. I chew my lip as I wait, looking at myself in the mirror.
I’m flushed and my eyes are bright and my hands tremble as I tidy my hair. None of that, unfortunately, is because of the man I’m here on a date with.
No. It can’t wait. Finish your date.
How the hell does he know I’m on a date? I mean, it’s not like it’s a state secret, but I also didn’t advertise it. I didn’t want it to appear like I was maybe rubbing his nose in it or taunting him. He’s made it clear he doesn’t want me in any serious way, but there’s still a history between us, a tension, and I didn’t want to poke the bear.
But if he does know I’m on a date, then why the hell is he harassing me like this? I start to entertain a sneaking suspicion that he’s only demanding my attention because Iamon a date. Which is ridiculous, but also maybe a tiny bit satisfying.
What’s the emergency, and how did you know I was on a date?
My phone vibrates again, signaling another message. A kaleidoscope of butterflies has taken up residence in the pit of my stomach, and I hold my breath as I glance at the screen.
I know everything. Leave the restaurant. Now.
Is he stalking me? How does he know I’m in a restaurant? I look around nervously, then laugh at myself. It isn’t like he’s lurking here in the ladies’ room.
Are you serious?
I watch the little symbols that tell me he’s typing a reply, and my anger starts to build. There is no damn work emergency! He just doesn’t want me out having fun with another guy. He’s a conceited, controlling jackass. Sadly, he’s also a hot, possessive, makes-my-panties-want-to-self-combust jackass who I can’t stop thinking about.
Deadly. Finish your date, Amelia. Right now, or I’ll end it for you.
My cheeks burn with heat, and I splash my face with water. Ignoring his message, I emerge back out into the restaurant and glance around, paranoid. Does he have spies? Is he here himself? What the actual fuck is going on? This is crazy. I look back at the screen.I’ll end it for you. What does that even mean?
“Are you okay, Amelia?” I’m back at the table, and Jacob’s voice snaps me from my thoughts about our asshole boss. I’m being rude, not giving him my whole attention, and that’s not like me. But Drake has a way of making me act like a person I don’t recognize and, in this case, don’t especially like.
I tear my eyes from my phone and blink at him.
“You look a little upset. Is it your mom?” He nods toward my cell phone.
I press the backs of my hands to my cheeks, hoping to cool them, but it doesn’t work. It’s like my skin is on fire. I shake my head, my phone vibrating in my hand again. “Everything’s fine. I just…” I take a deep breath. “Um, you know what, I’m not feeling great. Would you mind giving me a few more minutes? I think I just need some fresh air.”