Page 56 of Houston, We Have a Problem
“I gotta go, Connor,” I say into my phone.
“Seriously, think about it,” Connor replies. “I’ll fly you home if you’re not ready for this, but I really think you have it in you to take your life by the reins and win this race.”
“You really need to work on your metaphors.” The laugh that ekes out of me helps to calm my racing thoughts a bit, though there’s no hope for my heart with the way Houston leans against the side of the restaurant, patiently waiting for me tofinish my phone call. No one should look that good in jeans and a t-shirt. I suppose the worn leather jacket he’s wearing is doing a lot for the aesthetic; he looks like he belongs in the fifties in the best way.
Connor chuckles. “There’s a reason you’re the writer, not me. Good luck.”
When I tuck my phone into my purse, Houston pushes from the wall and greets me with a kiss on the cheek that I swear leaves a mark. “Connor McMillan?” he guesses, nodding toward my purse. “Can’t get away from your boss even all the way out here?”
“Unfortunately.”
“Is he the reason you’re still in Sun City?” He asks that question casually, but I can hear the undercurrent of nerves. Houston might be starting to trust Tamlin, but that doesn’t mean he trusts Enhance Media. And he has good reason to be wary, whether he knows it or not.
“Let’s grab a table,” I suggest, nodding to the door. “I think we have some things to talk about.”
“Some of the most terrifying words in the world,” he jokes as we head inside.
He does seem better today than he did yesterday. Hopefully he got some good sleep—I certainly didn’t—and used this morning to think about things and make some decisions. Whatever he chooses after this date, I’ll do my best to go along with it.
That doesn’t mean I’ve made my own decisions yet. Can I use him for my own benefit? But it’s not just for me. It’s for Carissa, who is living out her dream and improving lives. For my mom, who has been taking care of my dad for so long and is tired but will never say so. And for the peace of mind knowing my dad has all the care he needs before he’s gone. And even beyond what affects me directly, it’s for a chance to tell the stories that oftenget pushed to the wayside for the big scandals. For the people who deserve a little time to shine in their quiet lives.
But all of that could come at the cost of Houston’s happiness.
I don’t know what to do.
“Everything okay?” Houston asks as the hostess seats us at a cozy little table in the back. He pulls out my chair for me, hands brushing my waist as he helps me scoot in.
I’ve never been on a date as Tamlin before, so this could get interesting.
“Just a lot on my mind lately,” I say with a little shake of my head. “I’m sure you feel that a lot, being team captain and in such an important position.”
“You have no idea.”
After a waitress arrives to take our orders, we settle into small talk, which I have no complaints about. I’m going to have to bring up Little League at some point, but I want to enjoy at least a part of this date.
Our waitress returns pretty quickly, looking repentant and wary as she tells me, “I’m so sorry, but it looks like we’re out of the salmon.”
“Oh, that’s too bad,” Houston says.
I roll my eyes, though I can’t help but smile. I should have expected that. “Typical. How about you give me whatever you know youdohave? I’m not picky, just unlucky.”
The waitress breathes a sigh of relief before returning to the kitchen, which means I must have been giving off “Karen” vibes if she was so afraid of giving me bad news. I’ll have to work on that; I want Tamlin to be intimidating to athletes, not to minimum wage service workers.
Why is Houston looking at me like that?
“Are you often unlucky?” he asks quietly.
I nearly swear out loud but manage to keep it in my head. Unluckiness is a Darcy trait, not a Tamlin one. Why does this man have to put me so at ease? I scramble for a way to spin this. “Only when I’m trying to impress a hot guy and prove I don’t have the appetite of a linebacker,” I say.
Houston pinks a little, fighting the smile that plays at his mouth like he’s trying to ignore the ego boost.
I roll my eyes again. “Yes, you’re hot, Briggs. I can’t be the first person to ever say that to you when you have this whole Captain America look going for you.” I lean closer. “Between you and me, I like you better than Chris Evans, and that’s saying something.”
He opens his mouth, but I’m pretty sure I’ve rendered him speechless with my boldness. Darcy never would have been able to say something like that, but being Tamlin has its perks. She’s never afraid to say what needs to be said, and if that means stroking this man’s ego to get him to trust me a little more, then so be it.
Houston clears his throat, turning redder by the second, and I have no idea where his mind has gone when he looks so completely embarrassed by what he’s about to say. I didn’t think hecouldget embarrassed. “There’s no way to not sound like a jerk when I ask this,” he says, which is intriguing by itself, “but why do you wear so much makeup?”
Oh, sweet boy.At least he’s aware that his question is generally frowned upon by the female society. “Because it makes me look pretty,” I say.
