Page 26 of Beauty and the Boss Man

“Trust me, I know. I took note of every part of your sexy body last night. I would have noticed a tattoo.”

“Right,” I mutter.

“Why not? Can’t decide what you want?”

Frantically, I shake my head back and forth. “I don’t like pain. I’m a girl who cries when she stubs her toe. I’m not nearly enough of a masochist to put myself through getting drilled with a needle gun over and over again.”

He laughs. “Fair enough.”

Before either of us can utter another word, there’s a knock on the door, signaling our food has arrived.

Aiden quickly walks over to answer it and signs the receipt before bringing our food inside. He rolls the small cart with the metal domes over to the table.

We take a moment to set everything up before we sit down to eat.

After I take my first bite, I nod. “Pretty good.”

He follows suit and says, “Yeah, not bad, but I’ve had better.”

“Agreed.” I take another bite.

“So, Romy, tell me something about you.”

“Like what?”

He takes a bite of a fry. “What’s your favorite food besides those meatball subs you love so much?”

I point my finger at him. “Hey, don't hate on the all-mighty meatball sub. But aside from those, I love anything else that’s Italian—spaghetti, lasagna, chicken parm. I love it all.”

“Lucky for you, I make a mean lasagna.”

“You cook?” My tone is laced with surprise.

“Don’t sound so shocked. Yes, I cook. When I first started the business, money was pretty tight, so I asked my mom to teach me how. She showed me how to cook bigger meals, so I’d always have leftovers. I still don’t eat out a whole lot.”

Nodding, I reply, “Makes sense.”

“Do you cook?”

I snort. “Do instant noodles and peanut butter and jelly sandwiches count?”

He laughs. “I don’t think so.”

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I really should learn so I can make healthier stuff. I’m sure the extra pounds I’ve put on are from too many carbs and not enough salads.” I don’t say the words to elicit sympathy—more like I’m just stating a fact. Losing a few wouldn’t be the worst thing in the world.

When I glance up, Aiden is staring at me. “You know, Romy, there’s nothing wrong with not being a size two. Beautiful can look a lot of different ways. And for the record, I think you’re beautiful.”

My cheeks heat at the compliment. I can’t remember the last time a man called me beautiful. I can’t remember a time a man ever said it period.

Even back in my college days, when I was a bit more on the looseside, most guys I was with just called me hot or sexy—never beautiful.

Although I know what Aiden and I are is entirely temporary, there’s a feeling in my gut that tells me I’m starting to have feelings.

Maybe it’s just the excitement of it all—the newness.

Maybe not.

Maybe it’s more.

But I keep telling myself it’s the first one because maybe that way, I won’t get hurt.

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