Page 99 of Whatever Lola Wants

“Oh.” Her eyes dropped to the tablecloth as she toyed with her tableware. “Well, Derrek and I broke up, and I didn’t want to stay there after that. And I’ve always liked the way Chicago looks on television.”

He almost laughed until he realized she wasn’t kidding. “Being from Boston, at least you’re used to harsh winters. So hopefully that won’t be a shock to you.”

She looked puzzled. “Are the winters here very cold?”

“They can be,” he said and looked around for the server. He caught her eye, relieved when she started heading their way. “But you get used to them.”

The server arrived, depositing a basket of fragrant garlic bread sticks on the table before pulling her order pad from her apron pocket. “Are you ready to order?”

Simon gestured for Kayla to order first, which seemed to confuse her. “Oh. Um. Lasagna?”

He sent her a reassuring smile before turning to the server. “Two, please.”

“You got it. What kind of dressing would you like on your salad, hon?” she asked Kayla.

“Oh. Um.” She looked between the server and Simon as though hoping for one of them to rescue her. “I don’t…”

Simon stepped into the breach. “The house dressing is excellent,” he told her, and she sent him a grateful smile.

“Yes. Yes, the house dressing,” she told the server.

“I’ll have the same. Thank you.” The server walked away, and Simon picked up the basket of bread to offer it. “Would you like one?”

“Oh.” Her fingers hovered over the basket for a moment before she finally selected one. She laid it carefully on her bread plate. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” He bit into his own breadstick, grateful for a reason not to talk for a moment.

After a moment, it became clear that she wasn’t going to speak unless he prompted her. “What do you do for a living?”

“Um. Right now I don’t have a job,” she said in her soft voice, her eyes still on her plate. “I just got here a couple of days ago.”

“I assume you’re looking for work?”

“Um. I guess so.”

Simon frowned. She guessed so? “What kind of work do you do?”

“I worked as a secretary in Boston,” she told him, finally looking up from her plate. “A receptionist, really. My…boyfriend, he was a lawyer. I worked for his firm.”

Four whole declarative sentences. “Is that the kind of work you’re looking for here, or do you want something different?”

“Um. I guess if I have to work, I’d do the same thing. Be a receptionist.”

Alarm bells were going off. If she had to work? He cleared his throat. “If you could do any kind of work, what would it be?”

Her eyes widened. “Um. A housewife? I guess.”

“That’s nice,” he said, and she beamed. It was the most emotion she’d shown since he’d sat down. Major alarm bells. She was looking for a husband, a meal ticket. Jesus, Michael—what the fuck were you thinking?

“I’m sure you’d be good at it,” he said for lack of anything else to say, and watched her smile widen.

The server arrived with their salads, and he vowed then and there to leave her the biggest tip of her life.

He walked back into the office an hour later to find Grant waiting for him. “Grant. Did we have a meeting?”

Grant shook his head. “No, I was just going to leave you a note about Howard. Now I can tell you in person.”

Simon dropped into his chair with a grunt. “Great.”

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