Page 27 of The Undercover Billionaire's Baby

“How did I cheat?”

“With the bell, it was midnight, but in Singapore. And you waited for the wind to come grab your blossom.”

“That’s not cheating.” Brad drew himself up. “Just… making my own luck. You’ve got to help it along sometimes. Help the planets align.”

“You’d move entire planets?”

“For you, anything.” Brad did a goofy, exaggerated bow. I burst out laughing, and he laughed as well. We were still kind of chuckling when we walked into Belden’s, and the maître d’ smiled at us and beckoned us over.

“You’re lucky,” he said. “It’s a full house tonight. Hope you like window seats, because you’re our last table.” He led us to a table looking out on the terrace, set back from the main room in a little alcove.

“Cozy,” said Brad. “Nice view. I like it.”

“Your waiter will be right by to take your orders.”

I had a moment of panic when I opened my menu — nothing under twenty dollars, even the soup — but Brad was leafing through his, smiling, relaxed. I guessed Rex was paying him well for his deck job, as well he should be. That deck was a mess. It had been hit by lightning during last summer’s storm, then gnawed by something all through the fall. In winter, when the snow came, the back half collapsed.

“I heard the steak was good here,” he said.

“The pepper steak, yeah.” I felt sad for a moment, then pushed the feeling away. I’d had good times here. Made good memories. “Mom used to bring me here when I got my report cards. We’d always get the pepper steak, because it’s the best thing.”

“So you were a good student?”

I sipped my water. “Mostly. Though, there was one time I failed algebra. I thought the exam was on Friday, but it was Thursday. They F’d me.”

“They wouldn’t let you reschedule?”

I scowled, still salty. “No, the jerks. Said it was a lesson on how the real world works — if you miss a job interview, they don’t let you reschedule. But I missed one in college when we had a snowstorm, and what do you know? Yeah. We rescheduled.” I rolled my eyes and reached for a breadstick. “But the time I failed algebra, Mom still brought me here. She said when it’s good news, the steak’s your reward. When it’s bad news, it’s comfort food. You still need to eat.”

“Your mom sounds smart,” said Brad.

I smiled. “Yeah. The smartest.” And the kindest. The best. I’d never come here without her, and it felt strange. Not wrong-strange, though. In a way, it felt right. “I think we’d be here tonight, if she were still with us. Eating our bad-wiring feelings.”

“I have traditions like that too,” said Brad, looking away. “Things we used to do when my mom was alive. We’d always go round the old folks’ homes each year at Christmas, make sure they got presents, the ones who had no one. I still do that. And I put out a gift for her under the tree.”

“You miss her,” I said.

“I do. This past Christmas was tough. It didn’t feel right, not— Oh! Hello.”

Our waiter had materialized, gliding up out of nowhere. “Have you decided what you’d like to eat?”

We both ordered the pepper steak, and Brad picked a red wine. Our drinks came out first, and I sipped slowly, not wanting the wine to go to my head. The lights were low, mellow, the lampshades rose-tinted. A band had come out, and was playing smooth jazz. We weren’t on a date, but I kept getting date vibes, the way Brad leaned in to listen. The way the light caught his eyes. I let myself fantasize, what if we were? If he slid his hand across the table and our fingers brushed? If I touched his arm and he stiffened, then smiled? If he leaned closer, so close we bumped shoulders, so close my hair tickled his neck? Then out on the midnight street, with the moon overhead?—

I gasped as the waiter set down my plate.

“Sorry. Did I bump you?”

“No!” My neck prickled. I’d yelped out loud, and people were staring. “Just startled,” I said. “I didn’t, uh, see you.”

I gulped wine to compose myself, then drained half my water. Brad raised his brows as the waiter sailed off.

“He is pretty sneaky.”

“I think it’s his shoes.” I stabbed my steak and tried to act normal. “He’s got those crêpe soles.”

“Creep soles, more like.”

We both laughed at that, and my tension eased off. Brad tried his steak and his eyes drifted shut. He made a low sound, a sigh of enjoyment.

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