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And the little vixen, who absolutely deserves to have two men holding their hands out to her, waiting for her to give them even the smallest crumb of her attention and time, looks from my hand to his and smiles.
Then she slides to the end of the booth and stands up without taking either of our hands.
I grin as I step back.
That’s right. She doesn’t need a man.
She gets to choose one because shewantsone.
“Can you give us a minute?” Linnea asks Christian, stopping a few steps from the table.
He looks back and forth between Linnea and me, then nods. “I’ll have the valet bring our cars around.”
I dig into my pocket for my tag and toss it to him. “Thanks.”
She waits until Christian is out of ear shot, but I watch the feisty brunette who is tying me up in knots.
When he rounds the corner at the front, she looks up at me. “What are you thinking?”
She doesn’t say it with any kind of accusation in her tone. She looks and sounds curious. Like she really wants to know what I’m thinking.
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“What are you thinking about right now? About all of this? About Christian. And me.”
I frown and shake my head. “I don’t know why you’re asking. This is about whatyou’rethinking.”
“I…” She stops and takes a breath. “I haven’t done this before. You know that. I’ve never even gone to the movies with a guy who I wanted to kiss me goodnight. And now I suddenly have two guys. One who is basically asking me if I want to get married and be the First Lady of the United Fucking States and the other with his hand on my leg, who’s been playing with me all day, who watched me with my vib?—”
I put a hand over her mouth and tug her over to the side, away from all the other tables and the wait staff who are winding through the room.
I tuck us into an alcove with a potted plant that I would bet used to hold a payphone.
She’s watching me with wide eyes, but of course lets me put her against the wall and block her view of the rest of the room. The way she trusts me, lets me in her personal space, lets me just do whatever I want to with her is…so fucking hot. And huge. It matters to me that she trusts me this way.
“Jesus, Linnea.” I move my hand. “How about we not talk about your vibrator in public?”
“Why? Is that not normal date conversation?” she asks, sarcasm suffusing each word.
I lift a brow. “It’s not.”
“Is itnormaldate conversation to talk about becoming the future First Lady afterbowlingwith a guyone time?”
I study her face, then I feel my mouth kick up into a smile. Then I chuckle. Her eyes get even wider.
“Jonah!”
“No,” I say quickly, but unable to stop smiling. “Of course not. But…for you? Yes.”
She blows out a breath.
“Look, Duchess, you’re…not normal. In so, so many fucking amazing ways. You are the kind of woman who walks into a damnedbowling alleyand has a man ready to make you, essentially, his queen. However he can. Yes, on date number one. I’m sorry to break it to you, but Torin O’Grady is probably the only man on the planet who is stupid enough tonotwant to marry you.”
She’s frowning but she’s listening.
I can’t resist lifting my hand and cupping her face. I drop my voice. “As for your vibrator…onlya man with superhuman strength could have walked out of that room and I amnotthat man.”
She swallows, her eyes locked on mine.