Page 6 of A Me and Him Thing
“I didn’t think you were unpleasant this evening, I thought you were defensive. I wasn’t offended. I spent my time wondering who made you this way and if I could fix it.”
Remember when I said I’m never speechless? Ren just made me a liar. That voice is like listening to a violin play the sweetest chords.
“Don’t give anyone that much power over you. Life is short. Be good to yourself, Bree.”
He’s right. I’ve let failed relationships bring me down. I shouldn’t let other people determine my mood. I need to choose happiness for myself.
“Mr. Chambers, you left your cell in the kitchen. Someone has called three times in a row,” a waiter informs.
He glances at his watch, concern marring his features. After midnight is a strange time to be receiving phone calls.
“I’ll be right there.” He doesn’t raise his voice.
Then to me he says, “Your message has been delivered. Thank you, much appreciated. Have a good night, Bree. It was a pleasure to meet you.”
So polite, so formal. So seductive sounding.
Yet so un-flirty. I read him all wrong.
I watch him go, the significance of his words rumbling around in my head. “Wait. Are you…?” The owner?
Please, no.
He turns, but keeps walking backward. “Guilty as charged.” His potent half smile makes me shiver.
Wow. I met the most gorgeous man I’ve ever seen this evening, and I was downright prickly. And I’ve just proceeded to make a fool of myself in front of him.
Now he’s walking away.
But that’s what I wanted. I’m not interested in a new relationship.
Right?
Right.
Evidently, certain parts of me never got the memo.
After a stomach-dropping rush of an elevator ride and a visit to the ladies’ room to freshen up, I make my way through the dark parking lot, my heels against the pavement sounding like gunshots in the quiet night.
I press the ignition button in my cherry-red Camry, and nothing happens. The engine isn’t even trying to turn over. Just a sharp click and nothing.
It’s nearly one in the morning, and I’ve stayed out much too late. That’s what Friday nights are for, right? Get out, have a smashing good time.
I smashed it. Now it’s smashing me back.
My car is refusing to start. But I try it twenty more times just to be sure. Because, why not?
Nothing.
Fantastic. I could try the tried-and-true female method of fixing things by banging on the hood a few times.
Instead, I’m grabbing my phone to call for my motor club when a knock on my window startles me, making me drop my phone in my lap.
It’s Ren, the dashing man in black with a voice like silk barely touching my skin, entering my life again as though fate is trying to hit me over the head with a brick.
Huh. Sorry, fate. Not happening.
I lower the window. “Are you following me, Mister Restaurant Owner?” I could’ve just called him Ren, but I’m still impressed that he’s the owner of Exodus. It’s considered to be one of the nicest restaurants in the Portland area.
