Page 58 of His Own Heaven

She couldn’t believe she’d freaked out about a dress. Or that she’d vomited her insecurities all over Toby. And yeah, she’d given him and his brother a glimpse into the world of her anxieties on Friday night, but that had been nothing compared to the shitshow she’d dumped at his feet when he’d picked her up for dinner.

To his credit, he hadn’t run away. Nor had he told her to just get over it, because telling someone in the grip of an anxiety freak-out to “get over it” never ended well.

No. Toby had been patient with her. Kind to her. He’d been sexy and sweet and demanding. He’d asked her questions and hadn’t judged her answers. Then he’d opened up and told her something about him. Something deeply personal. He’d empathised with her and called her baby and told her he’d be there for her. For whatever reason. He knew she didn’t need him, but said he’d be there for her anyway.

He’d made her feel special again, and again she wasn’t sure how to feel about that. Usually when someone went out of their way to make her feel good, it was over and done within an hour or two.

One night stands had become so ingrained in her way of life that she didn’t really know what to do on an actual date, which, as she sat there staring blankly at the menu, she realised was part of the reason she’d had her little episode.

Lucy didn’t like feeling unsure of herself. And going out to dinner with a man who already knew he could have her in his bed anytime he liked but was being nice to her anyway, was disorienting.

And that in turn made her realise how supremely pathetic her life actually was.

“What’s wrong?”

Snapping her gaze up from the menu, Lucy stared into Toby’s crystalline eyes. Eyes that stared back at her with concern. She opened her mouth to deny his statement but never got the chance.

His gaze narrowed. “And before you even think about lying to me, don’t.”

Lucy swallowed against the lump in her suddenly dry throat. “I just realised something about myself.”

Toby’s eyes lighted with curiosity. “And what’s that?”

It was on the tip of Lucy’s tongue to tell Toby he was dating a total loser, when she had a second epiphany. One that screamed at her to pull her head out of her arse and take a good look at the man sitting opposite her, to realise how she’d come to be there.

The tightness around her chest eased. “I was thinking about the choices I’ve made throughout my life. How everything I’ve done has led me here. To you.”

The light in Toby’s eyes seemed to spread to the rest of his face, his expression beaming at her. But when he took her hand in his and brought it to his lips, his eyelids shuttered and the light changed, became more sensual in nature, and Lucy was certain had the waitress not chosen that exact moment to ask if they were ready to order, Toby would have suggested skipping dinner in favour of dessert.

The memory of his whispered words made Lucy squirm and wish she could dull the throbbing in her clit. But her movements rubbed the lace of her panties against her arse which made her moan. Toby chuckled knowingly.

After the infuriating man ordered their meals, he asked Lucy if she’d like a glass of wine. In what she hoped would be the first of many getting-to-know-you moments, Lucy said, “I don’t drink alcohol.” But instead of the incredulous “Why not?” that usually got tossed her way when she said what was considered the most un-Australian thing ever, Toby simply smiled, then ordered them both a pink lemonade.

“You can have a drink if you want to,” she assured him. “Just because I’m a teetotaller doesn’t mean you have to be.”

And then he said something wholly unexpected. “I don’t drink either.”

“Why not?” she blurted, then cringed at the incredulous zeal with which she asked her question. She’d turned into one ofthosepeople.

Toby grinned. “Charlie and I are allergic to alcohol.”

Lucy’s brain stuttered and for a moment she couldn’t form words. “I’m sorry, but it sounded like you said you’re allergic to alcohol.” But when he cocked one perfectly carved brow and stared at her, she realised he wasn’t kidding. “Wow. Seriously, that’s actually a thing? People can be allergic to alcohol?”

“Uh-huh.”

“What happens if you drink it?” A flitter of panic swelled in her chest. “Do I need to start carrying an Epi-pen around with me?”

Toby chuckled. “That won’t be necessary. It’s not life threatening. I just break out in hives. Big, nasty looking ones. It’s pretty gross. And itchy.”

The exaggerated way he screwed up his face as he described his allergic reaction made her panic recede. She laughed. “Sorry,” she said, still chuckling. But then he smiled too and Lucy was struck by how boyish Toby looked, mischievous. Playful.

Gorgeous.

Dinner was served and they ate in relative silence. That was one of the things Lucy admired most about Toby. He didn’t talk just for the sake of it. He didn’t feel the need to fill the void with the noise of pointless chitchat. Every conversation they had was meaningful. Not necessarily deep, but meaningful.

It made for a pleasant change from the office gossip she endured at work.

Listening to scuttlebutt kept Lucy informed about her staff—who was fighting, who was fucking, who was pulling their weight and who wasn’t—but it was also exhausting. And made her appreciate Toby’s silence even more.

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