Page 50 of The Opposite of Romance
“Oh, ok.”
“Come, I’ll drive you home.” He gets up, reaching his hand out to me.
“N-no. That’s ok. I’m really enjoying this pasta, so I’d like to finish it.” I force a smile. “I can easily Uber home later.”
“You sure?”
Yes, I’m pretty sure that I’d rather stay here in a public, lighted space than be alone in the car with you, after hearing too much.“Yes.” Another smile crosses my face, and I wonder if I was supposed to pursue acting rather than writing.
He nods in response. “Joe here will take care of you.” He gestures to the older gentleman wearing a creepy smile.What does it mean? Take care of me mafia-style?“I guess I’ll talk to you later.”Please, don’t.
Finally, he leaves, and though I feel a sliver lighter, Joe is still standing there, looking at me.
“Let me know if you need anything. And when you’re ready to leave, let me know. Mr. Larsen will cover your ride home.” He does something akin to a curtsy and leaves the table.
I down my glass of water, trying to calm my heartbeat. A figure appears in front of me, making me spit out some of my water.
“Shit, sorry,” Logan says, handing me a napkin. “Are you ok?”
“Yeah, I think so. This was weird.”
“Did he leave your date?”
“I guess so. But he had important,” my voice drops to whisper, “business to attend to. I’m uncertain the business is fully legal.”
Logan glances around, as if checking to see if someone is looking at us. “Maybe I should take you home.”
“Please, I would appreciate it.”
I’m too anxious to consider the fact he was here with someone, and he probably hadn’t planned on leaving yet.
“Come on.” He reaches his hand out, just like Jaxon did not even ten minutes ago, but the feeling is vastly different. Instead of nerves, a sense of calm hits me as his hand envelopes mine, lifting me from my seat.
He doesn’t let go of it until we reach his car, where he opens the door for me and closes them after I get in.
As we peel out of the restaurant’s parking lot, I finally release the breath I was holding.
“What were you doing on a dinner date with Jaxon Larsen?” he asks.
“Shit, dinner. This is my third date in a row where I ended up hungry,” I respond, mostly to myself, with a self-deprecating laugh. “Wait,” I continue when I realize what he said, “you know him?”
“I knowofhim. That’s why I’m asking.”
“So, he really is a mobster?”
He chuckles lightly. “Maybe not a full mobster, but he runs a motorcycle gang. It’s common knowledge they deal in stolen bikes.” He sneaks a glance at me. “You know, one of those things everyone knows, but no one talks about.”
“Still, what are the chances of him coming after me to, you know, shush me?”
Once again, his deep chuckle fills the space of the car. “No, I think you’re safe. He’s kind of a player, though. If he went around killing every woman he’s been on a date with, this town would have no more female residents.”
“Fuck, we really hit the mark with morally gray grump,” I mutter to myself again.
“What?”
“It’s nothing.”
“No, Ihaveto know now. What’s a morally gray grump?” He shoots me a smirk, one that makes his eyes sparkle.
