“I was supposed to feed you,” he said, a sour expression etched on his features.
She wiped the corners of her mouth with her napkin. “I’ve been feeding myself without any help since I was about three years old.”
Eddie scowled. “You’ve got a real sharp tongue. It’s not very attractive, you know.” He shoved a big piece of the cake into his mouth. “This isn’t very good,” he said in between chewing. “I’m glad it’s on the house.”
Angie folded her napkin.That’s it. I’m done.She lifted her head and was startled when the handsome man was standing behind Eddie’s chair. She stared into a pair of eyes as dark as molasses.He’s gorgeous.The soft light from the pendants brought out the blue undertones of his deep black hair. He had sharp, angled features, a firm jaw, and a full bottom lip that, at that moment, had the slightest hint of a curl.
“Are you coming?” a female voice asked.
Angie looked over at the woman who’d been sitting with him at the table, then shifted her eyes back to him.
“Yeah,” he said in a deep, gravelly voice.
They held each other’s gaze for a long pause, and Angie’s pulse quickened.
“Is that the waiter behind me?” Eddie asked, breaking whatever she and this stranger had going on between them. He craned his head, but the mesmerizing man walked away from her table.
Angie watched as he swaggered toward the front of the restaurant, admiring his broad shoulders and the way his jeans slung low on his narrow hips. He wore a black leather jacket and had a nobody-fucks-with-me air of authority.
“Is that someone you work with?” Eddie asked, invading her thoughts.
“No,” she said, turning back to him. He was as annoying as a bunch of gnats flying in her face.
“Oh. I thought you knew him.” He snapped his damn fingersagain. “It’s your pheromones! See, it’s true.” A satisfied and smug look spread across his face.
Leaning down to pick up her purse, she mumbled, “Whatever.” She placed her bag on the table and pushed her chair back. “Thanks for a great dinner. This restaurant was a good choice.”
Eddie’s eyes widened. “Are you going? I thought we’d go to Basin’s Street to hear some jazz.”
Standing up, she said, “It’s getting late.”
He glanced at his watch and then back up at her. “It’s only nine o’clock.”
“It seems later, but the truth is, I have a terrible headache. I suffer from migraines and have to get home to take my medicine. I’m sorry.”
Eddie’s lips turned downward. “You’re really using that old clichéd excuse?”
“As ‘clichéd’ as it sounds, it’s true.” And it was—Angie’s head was pounding. Getting away from him was a bonus.
“All right,” he grumbled, standing up.
The cool night air rushed around them as they walked out of the steakhouse. Angie was glad she’d insisted on meeting Eddie instead of having him pick her up. She rummaged through her purse and pulled out her keys.
“Thanks again. Drive safely,” she said before heading to her Kia.
“I’d really like to take you to Basin’s Street. They have great jazz bands on the weekends.”
I can’t believe he didn’t get the message that I’m not interested.Angie turned around. “I’m not into jazz, and before you suggest something else, I have to be honest—I just don’t think we clicked.” Her heart lurched when she saw his crestfallen face, and she shifted in place while looking over his shoulder at the swaying branches of a maple tree. “My aunt Rosa keeps trying to find me Mr. Right, but the truth is, I’m not looking to get involved with anyone right now.”
He shoved his hands into his pockets as disappointment morphed into anger. His nostrils flared. “I wish I would’ve known that instead of wasting a load of dough and my time tonight. Thanks for nothing.” Eddie whirled around and stomped away.
Angie picked up her pace and let out a relieved breath as soon as she slid into the driver’s seat; then, she locked the car doors and buckled her seatbelt. Turning out of the lot, she decidedthatwould be her last blind date.
Aunt Rosa would just have to stop her matchmaking. She knew her aunt meant well, but Angie couldn’t stand one more of these dates, so they needed to have a talk over the weekend. Her aunt Rosa had always been like a second mother to her. Angie was only fourteen when her mom had died of breast cancer. Aunt Rosa, her mother’s older sister, had jumped in and taken care of their shell-shocked family. They’d been zombies for weeks after the funeral, and if it hadn’t been for Aunt Rosa, Angie didn’t know if she, her brothers, and her dad would’ve gotten through the stabbing grief that had consumed all of them in different ways.
Angie leaned over and grabbed a tissue from the glove box, then swiped it across her cheeks. The remembrance of her mother’s death and funeral brought tears to her eyes. Shaking her head slightly, she gripped the steering wheel tighter.
“I know Aunt Rosa’s concerned for me, but she needs to back off a bit,” she said out loud. “I have to convince her somehow that I’m really over Devon.”