Page 34 of Destined To Fall

I laugh, handing over the cash.“There’s no thinking involved.” I hurry to shoo her off before Jeremy can get his wallet out.

“You sure know how to emasculate a guy.”

“Masculinity isn’t measured in money, Jeremy.”

His brow pulls slightly as he stares at mefora moment.“Some men still like to pay on a date, though.”

“This is far from a date.”

“Is it?”

I frown.

Before I can rebut, Jeremy opens his mouth again.“Have dinner with me.”

“You are persistent,” I say. His smile deepens, one side curling up further than the other, and I stop thinking.“When?”

“Tonight?”

I shake my head, smiling.“I can’t,I’m busy.”

“Tomorrow night?”

“No can do.”

He loses a little of the sparkle in his eyes when he responds.“Business?”

One corner of my mouth inches upward.

The waitress returns with the change, and I shake my head, telling her to keep it, but before she walks off, I stop her.“Sorry, may I?” I take the pen and notepad she’s holding. My hand flies across the paper as I scribble on it, then rip off the sheet and hand the pad and pen back.“Thanks.”

She grins at me before walking off.

Jeremy watches on, curiosity plain on his face, but his eyes go wide when I stand, an emotion I can’t catch flashing lightning quick across his face.

“I have to go, but I enjoyed…this.” I give him a genuine smile.

He nods, a small smile of his own playing at the corners of his mouth, but he doesn’t say a word. I reach for my clutch, my mind already made up, and do something I haven’t done since college. I slip the piece of paper I scrawled on into Jeremy’s palm resting on the table before scampering off, an odd sensation sitting in the pit of my stomach.

I’m two steps away from the door when my cell dings in my hand. Glancing down, I see the unknown number pop up on the home screen and grin.

You ain’t seen nothing yet.

I type a quick one-handed response back as I push open the door.

I’m counting on it.

Chapter Seven

Fuck, what am I doing? I’m officially turning into a fourteen-year-old girl, but I can’t seem to stop. I’m smack-bang in the middle of one of the busiest weeks I’ve had in months, thanks to Laura, and I’m glued to my cell. Any chance I get, I’m on the stupid thing.

I’ve barely had a spare moment to myself to stop and think about anything—other than Jeremy, in every which way. Endlessly. Not once have I had any rational thoughts. Like where all this texting is going? I don’t date. We both know this. It’s so not my scene, or conducive to my line of work. He doesn’t sleep around. I’m well aware of that painful fact. Maybe that’s my problem; I’m jonesing for a guy I can’t have, or at least, not in the way I want. I’m sure if I scratched that itch, I’d lose interest. It’s been my MO for…well, ever. Yet whenever my phone dings, buzzes, or vibrates, I rush to check it, anticipating the next message like a crack whore does her next hit. Like now, scrambling to get it out of my back pocket in the cab, as if my ass will catch on fire if I don’t.

J: How was your flight?

J: Plane food sucktastic, as always?

V: I like plane food. Everything is better when you’re high. Miles high :P

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