Page 10 of When I Had You

“Normally, I’d take it as a compliment.” Leveling my gaze on him, I stare while he continues, “Since you don’t seem to be having a good night, or day, week, maybe month, I’ll let it slide.”

“You’re too kind.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

I balk. “To you?” Shaking my head before the words have time to escape, I reply, “Thanks, but I’d rather let it fester inside and eat me alive.”

I’m left sitting here expecting a great comeback when he just turns away from me and directs his attention out the window. Slow blinking several times, I finally turn to look out my window as well.

When the car pulls up to the restaurant, Cash gets out and holds the door for me. He even offers a hand when I step onto the curb, which I don’t take. “Well, thanks for the ride.”

He shuts the door, but he’s not inside the car. “You’re welcome.”

Crinkling my forehead, I say, “You can go now.”

“Thanks for the permission.” He walks past me and opens the door to the restaurant.

“You’re eating here?”

“Guess you didn’t get the memo or, more specifically, the text.” He flashes a text thread in my direction. I barely catch Harbor’s name at the top before the screen darkens, though.

“Wait, what memo was that?”

“The one that invited me to dinner with the owners and family tonight.”

“Are you freaking kidding me right now?”

“No.” Nodding toward the inside, he asks, “You coming?”

Begrudgingly, I walk toward him and hold my phone up as I go inside. “My phone is broken, remember.”

“The screen is cracked, but I still saw you playing on it.”

“I wasn’t playing on my phone.” Waving my hand around on my wrist, I reply, “Anyway, potato. Potahto.”

It’s the first time I see somewhat of a genuine smile. Naturally, I find it maddening how flattering it is across his face. I’ll give credit where it’s due, though. God gifted this man with more than talent on the racetrack. He can be as attractive as he wants and ridiculously appealing, but he’s still . . . him.

He chuckles, finding me so amusing. I don’t feel the same about him. Cash Ryatt is a thorn in my side, and now I have the great misfortune of dining with the jerk himself. Oh yay . . .

“I’ll go if you want me to,” he says. “I don’t want you to feel uncomfortable.”

“Really?” Maybe a tiger can change its stripes.

“No, I was invited, and I can’t wait to watch you squirm all night.” He walks to the host stand, leaving me to my own devices, which are currently shooting imaginary daggers into his back.

He checks us in, and we’re led through the restaurant toward an arched doorway at the back. The lights are dimmer in the room ahead, but candles light the way when we get closer. My mom’s laughter reaches my ears before my eyes have adjusted to the low lighting. He stops, and as soon as I make eye contact, he whispers, “Isn’t this romantic for our first date?”

I harden my gaze on my target. “Let me be very clear. This is not a date.”

“If you say so.”

“I most definitely say so.”

He shrugs like he’s not on board with my threat.

“Marina. Cash?” Harbor stands to greet us while his gaze darts between us. “You made it.”

“We made it,” I reply humorlessly, though I’d love to share how I really feel about this situation. I sit between my mom and Noah, and Cash settles between Loch and my dad. “Isn’t this just so cozy?”

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