Page 27 of Fake Dating Daxton Hawk
“I’ve had a terrible day. More like terrible year. The last thing I need is you giving me fake compliments.”
“I wasn’t being fake.”
“Yeah, okay,” she mutters, the words heavy with sarcasm.
I take a closer look at Jordan’s features, narrowing in on her eyes. She’s done a good job concealing the truth with makeup, but the whites of her eyes are an irritated red.
“You’ve arrived upset. Please tell me what’s wrong.”
She groans quietly. “I’m holding myself together by a thread right now. Talking about the issue will only make it worse. Can we just get on with the night. You’re paying me to be your date, not to get emotional and offload my baggage onto you.”
Well, this isn’t starting off great.
“Is your business colleague here yet?” she asks.
Her question leaves me confused until I realize the miscommunication. I asked Jordan to have dinner with me and she assumes it’s for business. “We’re not meeting anyone else.”
“What are we doing here, then?”
“I asked you to have dinner with me. Just the two of us.”
“Why?”
“I’d like to talk with you.” But now I don’t know if discussing her issues with me, then revealing our Secret Santa connection, is a good idea for tonight, considering her current state. I nod to the restaurant entrance. “After you.”
Looking slightly confused, she heads inside and I follow close behind. The restaurant is busy, with a hum of conversation spreading from guests dining at their tables. The crystal chandelier sheds gentle light across the room. In the center of the restaurant, a pianist plays smooth jazz background music.
The two of us come to a stop when Amabella approaches us with a smile. “Good evening. I have your table ready. Follow me.”
“Actually,” Jordan cuts in. “I’d like to stop by the bar for a glass of wine first.”
Now I know something is seriously wrong because Jordan never drinks. She’s told me about an entire upbringing filled with trauma from alcoholic parents and how she’s sworn off alcohol out of fear of turning into them.
“Jordan…” I contemplate how best to address this delicate situation. “I think we should stay clear of alcohol tonight, especially if you’re having a stressful day.”
“You don’t need to drink, but I’d like to order a wine.”
Amabella glances between Jordan and me, unsure how to proceed. Before I have the chance to say anything else, Jordan leaves my side and heads for the bar.
I share a concerned glance with my cousin as the two of us follow her.
“Abort the plan,” Amabella whispers.
Yeah, no kidding. I have more important things to worry about tonight, like making sure Jordan doesn’t end up hating herself for drinking. And if I can’t stop her from consuming alcohol, I at least have to be here to take care of her.
Jordan arrives at the bar, propping herself up onto a stool. She’s fast to order a wine and hands cash to the bartender before I can stop her.
Taking a seat beside Jordan, I nod for Amabella to leave us. While the bartender is busy serving up a glass of wine, I place a hand on Jordan’s stool and swivel her to face me. The movement temporarily brings my face closer to hers, and I can tell from the sudden stiffness of her body she is displeased. At least I’ve got her attention on me.
“So, you’ve had a bad day,” I say. “I’m happy to listen if talking about it will help you.”
“It won’t help. Let’s talk about you instead. What was that thing you wanted to discuss over dinner?”
“It can wait.”
She folds her arms. “Patience isn’t my strong suit. Is it something about our arrangement?”
“Honestly, don’t worry about it.”
