Page 29 of The Enemy of My Enemy Is… My Fake Boyfriend?

His brows shot up, his eyes bright in a way I'd never seen before... or noticed anyway.

I elbowed him, trying to wipe the amusement off his handsome face. "Oh, God. You would take that literally. It's a phrase, an idiom, you know, an expression that means something else altogether."

"If you say so."

"What, are you twelve?"

He didn't reply, just kept on eating, so I did the same, a strange silence growing between us. It wasn't uncomfortable per se; it was simply different. By me asking those questions, I'd revealed my curiosity about him, and there was no taking it back now.

Ethan Locke was surprisingly sharp, picking up on every nuance, every hidden meaning behind my words, actually paying attention to not only what I said out loud, but my body language as well as every single thing that happened in this bar.

He waspresent, an astonishing fact in this city full of people's heads constantly bowed to look at their cell phones. The amount of times I'd had dinner across from the back of Chase's perfectly weathered, brown leather phone case was... well, it was just plain sad.

While I slowly ate my burger, which was absolutely divine, Ethan shoved his now empty plate away, leaning back and stretching, his knee bumping the table.

"So no, I don't have a girlfriend," he finally answered out of the blue. "What about you? Has someone come in and swept you away in the last several weeks?"

"Me? God, no. No boyfriend. No prospects. Noanything." I wiped some ketchup on my napkin. "I'm never getting in another relationship again. Men suck."

"Not all of us."

I made a noise of frustration low in my throat. "Almostall."

He nodded his head. "I'll give you that."

I smiled at him in appreciation, taking a deep breath while pushing my plate away, full and not able to eat another bite... although I certainly wouldn't turn down dessert or a bit of anything sweet.

Ethan eyed my leftover fries. "Are you done?" he asked.

"They're all yours," I said with a giggle. An actual giggle. I had no idea how but Ethan had a way of making me laugh.

Watching him in awe, I wondered where he put all this food he ate. The man had just consumed an enormous amount of calories and easily scarfed down more.

"What?" he asked after finishing the last fry. "I'm a big guy."

How had he read my thoughts like that? Ethan was far too perceptive, making me realize I needed to be careful around him and at least attempt to guard my thoughts.

Taking our empty plates to the bar, he returned with something a minute later, a huge brownie on a plate loaded with vanilla ice cream.

"A brownie?" I gushed.

"What can I say?" He handed me a spoon. "I have a sweet tooth."

Seeing this side of Ethan was something else. Dimples, sweet treats, and books of poetry.

We both dug our spoons into the dessert, starting on opposite ends. When the first bite hit my tongue, I might have moaned in ecstasy, causing Ethan to raise a brow at me, something I was beginning to realize was his signature look, like this world we lived in somehow amused him but only slightly.

We ate in silence, the people at the bar making a bunch of noise as one of the teams on TV scored. Something about it all was surprisingly intimate, the ambience, the two of us eatingfrom the same dessert, working our way closer and closer to the center.

At one point, Ethan shifted, and his big thigh grazed mine. I kept waiting for him to pull away, to reposition himself, but he didn't. The warmth of his leg seeped into me, causing a stirringdown therethat I hadn't felt in ages.

I pulled away, not ready to go there in a million years, especially not with this man next to me. And there was that smirk again from him.

He gestured to the plate with his spoon. "Last bite is all you."

I thought about arguing and telling him he could have it, but fuck it, I wanted it. So I ate it up, Ethan's eyes on me, studying my face.

"What?" I asked once I'd finished. "Do I have ice cream all over me or something?"

---