Page 11 of Ms. Lead

“No problem,” he says as if he believes my lie. He’s much better at recovering from crazy than I am.

We move on, and this time he puts a hand on my lower back to usher me into the restaurant. Nobody is shocked or hit by lightning this time. Small mercies.

We’re seated at a private table, and it hits me that this dinner will probably be more than I was planning on spending. I must have gone pale because Oliver quickly reads my mind and eases it.

“I get to expense everything on this trip, so get whatever your heart desires. My publisher will hate me, but that’s nothing new.”

A shy grin that is so damned attractive spreads on his face, and it’s all I can do not to lean over and kiss his cheek. He holds my chair for me, then takes his seat. Manners. He has manners. That’s it. I’m in love.

“Why would your publisher hate you?” While I’ve seen his rude side, I don’t think it’s enough to warrant hate.

His smile falters slightly. “They have this thing about deadlines. I was supposed to start this book last year, but….” His voice drifts off, and he looks away quickly. He was about to reveal something.

“But?” Curiosity for everything about him and his life is taking me over. I want to know all there is to know about Oliver Bellamy.

“But it didn’t work out that way.” He busies himself with unfolding his napkin and spreading it on his lap, careful not to look directly at me. We’re both avoiding looking right at each other again. Probably for fear of another lightning strike. It’s kind of crazy at this point. “Timing and schedules never matched up to make it work.”

“I see.” It’s nagging at me that it was a vague answer, but I don’t want to press him too much on our first meeting. I’m sure he had good reasons for not meeting the deadlines and not telling me the exact truth about it. “Well, you’re here now, so they’ll get their book soon enough.”

“Exactly. How about you? How did you come to work for Mischief Motors? It’s not a typical profession for a woman.” He arches a brow at me as though he’s impressed, but still, our eyes don’t meet.

“Oh. Yeah. It’s not.” I have to think for a minute. I haven’t done the whole ‘Once upon a time, Bianca did this or that…’ spiel in a long time. “Long story short, my older brother Enzo used to work there, and once I graduated high school, he brought me on and showed me the ropes. When he left for L.A., I took over as Lead Driver.”

“Enzo is an interesting name.”

“It’s short for Lorenzo, but I rarely call him that.” I laugh to myself, thinking about his phone call yesterday.

“Are the two of you close? Do you have other siblings?”

I dare to glance up and into his eyes, and something clicks in my brain. He’s genuinely curious about my family and my job. But for some reason I can’t explain, I feel like I’m repeating myself to him. Like he knows all of this already. The déjà vu with him is off the charts.

“We are extremely close, and no. He’s it.” I shrug. “How about you? Any siblings?”

“No. My parents were stuck with me alone.” He smirks as if that would have been a bad thing. I can’t imagine anyone not wanting to spend time with him. Family included.

I can’t take this anymore. My mother always said my mouth would get me into trouble, and, well, she’s not wrong.

“Oliver, can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“It’s kind of crazy.” Doubt is starting to creep up, but I’ve already started down this road. I need to stay on it.

He gives me a questioning look that turns suspicious.

“What sort of crazy?”

“The kind of crazy that feels like everything about you is familiar to me somehow. I can’t explain it.” That’s not what I wanted to say. I shake my head. “Damn it. This isn’t coming out right.”

“Well, in all of that, you didn’t ask a question. Is there one?” His eyes are kind, not judgmental of my insane babbling. Points to him for that, at least.

“Yeah.” I hesitate for only a second but lean in closer. Making sure I catch his reaction to the question. “Do you feel it? The feeling of déjà vu? Or that you already know me? I kind of got the impression that you might.”

I’m glad I focused on his response because his face suddenly becomes expressionless. As though he never knew what a single emotion ever was, let alone felt one. I don’t think I’ve seen someone shift straight into neutral like that. Completely devoid of emotion. A chill skitters across my heart at the sight of it.

I briefly hide my face, which I’m sure is bright red behind my menu, and laugh it off.

“You know what? That was crazy. Forget I said anything.” I wave the whole thing away as the crazy thought it is. He still hasn’t even flinched. It’s like he completely unplugged. His lively gray eyes now seem vacant. I, on the other hand, have to make a concerted effort not to cringe so hard that I fold in on myself. “Anyway, you were going to tell me about your book? I haven’t looked at the itinerary that closely yet, so I’m not sure how much I can add to it.”

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