Hired Hottie - Kelsie Rae Page 0,41
“Right this way.” He pushes the elevator’s down button to take us to the first floor before adding, “You’re not used to being the center of attention, are you.”
It’s not a question, but I answer anyway. “Not really.”
“Well, you should get used to it. Especially when you’re dressed like that.” Subtly, I tug on the hem of my shirt, which makes him chuckle.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of. Though, if I get into a fight tonight, I blame you.”
I don’t know why, but the image of Levi with bloody knuckles when I was a child comes to mind. He’d hit a jerk who’d caught onto the whole Charlie’s a boy fiasco that Conner had started before moving away. The thought causes my spine to straighten, and my knuckles turn white as I grip my clutch.
“I was kidding,” he mutters, grabbing my attention as we step onto the elevator.
With another forced smile, I pat his arm. “Sorry, I’m being weird. Like you said, I’m not used to being the center of attention, and I’m definitely not used to being called hot.”
“It was meant as a compliment,” he clarifies. “But I don’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, either. If I say anything stupid, it’s because you’ve rendered me speechless. You’re not the only one who’s found themselves in an unfamiliar situation tonight, Charlie.”
Surprised, I ask, “Taking girls out is unfamiliar to you?”
“Nah. Taking out girls who I want to impress is unfamiliar to me. So, if I act weird, you’ll have to cut me a little slack. Deal?”
For some reason, his little confession––combined with his boyish grin––is enough to soothe my frazzled nerves. Smiling shyly, I nod. “Deal.”
We make small talk as we make our way down to the restaurant when the scent of barbecue assaults me. My stomach growls. The establishment is pretty small and definitely low-key, which I appreciate. After placing our orders at the front counter, we’re handed a plastic sign with a number on it then we find a seat in one of the wooden booths lining the sides of the establishment.
“I like this place,” I note as I scan the brown and blue painted walls. The decor is almost rustic with cowboy hats and horses, but it also has a modern flair with the bright colors and graffitied imagery.
Sitting across from me, Conner replies, “Levi mentioned you might. We brought a client here a month or two ago, and he guessed you’d be a fan.”
Of course, he did.
The food doesn’t take long to arrive. My mouth waters when the waiter delivers it to our table, and I dig in without reservations. Wiping my thumb along my lower lip to remove a bit of cilantro-lime mayo, I peek up to see Conner grinning back at me.
“What?” I ask, embarrassed.
“I’m just surprised.”
“At what?”
“I figured you’d be a salad type of girl.”
“To be fair, they didn’t have salads on the menu,” I quip before taking a giant bite of cowboy sushi.
“Good point.”
“But I wouldn’t have ordered one anyway,” I add with a grin.
“And after watching you ravage your meal, that doesn’t surprise me.”
We finish eating pretty quickly then walk back to Conner’s place side by side. My feet scuff against the cement as the taxis who are honking at other drivers and jay-walking pedestrians zoom past us. The combination makes me smile.
“What’s so funny?” Conner asks curiously.
“I just love this place.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. There’s something about the hustle and bustle of the city that calls to my soul. Do you like it here? I mean, I know you moved away when you were a kid—”
“Yeah. To live with my mom after my parents got divorced. It’s kind of weird being back if I’m being honest. I appreciate that my dad offered to put in a good word at Montague Enterprises and that I was able to snag a spot in one of the most coveted corporations in the industry. But sometimes, I miss the suburban life.”
“Really?” I can’t hide my surprise, and he notices.
“Yeah. One day when I decide to settle down, I want to move to a more quiet city. One that isn’t awake 24/7.”
I don’t know why, but when he says it, I consciously insert myself into his dream to see if I’d fit. I’m not totally opposed to the possibility, but it doesn’t make my heart soar, either. With a simple shrug, I say, “Well, I hope you get your dream.”
Reaching for my hand, he tangles our fingers. “Me too.”
His hands are soft but warm. It’s…nice. There