Gone - Anna Brooks Page 0,8
my hip against the booth so I don’t tumble to the floor.
“Hi. What are you doing here?”
The waiter brings a basket of chips and salsa over and sets it on the table. He looks at me and smiles. “Sorry about that. Do you want me to take your order to go, or are you eating here?”
“Oh, uh… I was just getting it to go.”
“She’s staying. Sit, Izzy.”
I jerk my head down and blink at Damien’s bark. If anybody else talked to me like I was a dog, I’d pick up that big glass of water and throw it on their face. But coming from him, I find myself lowering my body to the seat before I realize I’m even doing it.
“Hold my order and come back for hers in a minute.”
“I know what I want.”
Damien shakes his head. “He can come back.”
“Oh-kay,” I murmur as the waiter takes the hint and walks away, leaving a menu behind that I snatch up and pretend to read. “What are you having? I always get the empanadas, but I’ve had a craving for taco salad all day, but every time I eat one, I never finish it but then end up being hungry later, and they’re not good reheated because the lettuce gets all mushy and—”
“Izzy.”
I swallow nervously, then peer up at him. “Yeah?”
“Relax.”
“Okay.”
“Now tell me why you look upset.”
That’s a nice way to say I look like shit. “Wh—?”
“You’re gorgeous,” he practically snaps at me. “So get that shit outta your head.”
“What shit?”
“That I implied you weren’t as fuckin’ beautiful as you are. Tell me why you’re upset.”
I want to ask him why he cares or what difference it makes, but he called me beautiful, and the hard set of his jaw and those dark, piercing eyes taunt me to tell him everything; my secrets, dreams, fantasies. “My boss is just a dick.”
“You don’t need to put up with him.”
“I kind of have to.”
He leans back in the booth and crosses his beefy arms. “He touch you a lot?”
My head spins at these rapid-fire questions and answers. “What?”
“I saw him yesterday. I couldn’t tell if you wanted to barf or smack him when he put his hand on your shoulder.”
Wow, I guess he was really paying attention. “No, he doesn’t do it often. But I didn’t want to do one or the other, I wanted to do both. He’s just a condescending, pompous asshole.”
The waiter returns, gently setting down a glass of water for me. “Did I give you enough time?”
I look at Damien and then answer with an impersonal nod.
“Would you like me to get you something to drink besides water?”
I close the menu and pass it back to him. “Just the taco salad, please. And water’s fine.”
“Okay, I’ll put that right in for you.”
“Thanks.”
Damien waits until he’s gone, but not by much. “Next time he puts his hands on you, I’d like to say I’d vote for you slapping him, but he seems like the kind of guy who’d hit back. Then I’d have to kill him and that would get messy, so maybe just puke on him instead.” He shrugs as he shoves a chip in his mouth, and I can do nothing but stare at the man.
Something about him magnetizes me to him. And it’s not just every inch of his male perfection, either. It’s also the way he carries himself with a calm, cool confidence that is unparalleled.
“Believe it or not, I actually know how to throw a mean hook, so if he did hit me back, I’d knock his lanky ass out.”
Damien gives me a half smile. “Oh, yeah? Who taught you how to fight?”
“My brother.”
“So why haven’t you laid him out, then? You don’t come across as the kind of woman who would take shit from someone.”
He’s right, and I wish I could tell him the real reason, but I can’t. Nobody can know. “I need my job. And he’s harmless.”
“Until he steps it up.”
The sad thing is, I know that he’s right. Dr. Rickman’s behavior has escalated. But I don’t want to talk about this anymore, so I change the subject. “You weren’t waiting for somebody, were you?”
He relaxes in the booth, one muscular arm stretched across the seat. “I wasn’t until she showed up.”
The heat between my legs trickles up to my belly, then my chest, and lands on my cheeks. I dip my head and am left speechless.
Luckily, he takes pity on me and asks if I own a dog of my