I think my brain just short circuited, and I can’t seem to form words. Free? Is he asking me out? Like on a date? God, I'm so awkward.
“It’s for business reasons. I promise.”
Oh. I nod my head, my throat still dry, and I find it hard to speak, clearing my throat. “Yes. Of course.”
He looks at his phone. “Do you need to go home first, or are you ready now?”
I look at my own phone and see it’s nearly six in the evening. Wow, today went fast. “No, I don’t need to go home.”
“Good.” I follow him as we pass Gretchen in the lobby, her death glare stays trained on me as Hayden addresses her. “Put in the final orders I sent to your email and then go home for the day.”
She looks panicked. “You’re leaving with her?”
Hayden’s back straightens as his shoulders square. It’s clear he’s losing patience. “We have more work to do.”
Her eyes move to mine with a silent, hateful warning, and I can’t stop my eyes from rolling. I won’t be intimidated by anyone.
Hayden turns to me. “I’ll drive. I’ll bring you back to your car later.”
I don’t argue, I just want to be far away from Gretchen and her icy gaze. I follow him and climb into his passenger seat before he takes off.
“So where are we going?”
“One of my favorite restaurants.”
“Dinner?”
His shoulders shrugs as he clutches the wheel with one hand. “We have to eat, don’t we?”
“I suppose.” I look at the cars in front of us as we creep along the road. “So, are we stealing ideas from this restaurant?”
“No. Although, I wish it could work.”
I’m confused. “What?”
“I don’t think it would fit with the guests we’ll be accommodating, but it’s by far my favorite restaurant here.”
“What was your favorite restaurant in Kansas City?”
Now he smiles, and I could stare at him smiling all day long. “Gates.”
That brings a smile to my face. He really is from Kansas City. Everyone there knows Gates Barbecue. “I’m more of a Jack Stack sort of girl.”
He shakes his head with a chuckle. “Of course you are.”
“Some sort of rich girl jab?”
“Yup.”
I roll my eyes, but I can’t remove the smile. “So, if we aren’t learning from this adventure, then we are just two people having dinner at your favorite place?”
“And talking business.”
“Right.”
My eyes move back to the scar on his hand, the one gripping the steering wheel, and he sighs loudly. “I’m sorry I froze when you asked me about it.”
“It’s none of my business.”
“I didn’t have a great childhood or really one at all. And it’s not a time I like to talk about.”
I nod solemnly. “I understand.” He gives me a side-eye, and I quickly try to explain by adding. “Penelope didn’t have the best start, and she’s told me some things over the years.”
I notice his body visibly stiffen, his jaw ticking with an anger I don’t understand. “How bad was it?”
I study him, trying to understand his obsession with Penelope. Or is it maybe any child who has a bad background like he does? “She was in foster care. And they weren’t all good to her. The final straw was when Linc found out her foster father had hit her.”
I see his hands tighten their grip on the steering wheel and see him swallow hard as if the lump in his throat is a ball of rage he can’t get rid of. “Hit her?”
I nod. “Yes. She had a black eye. It was awful.”
“Did anything else happen to her?”
“Do you know her? Is that what this is?” He parks the car in a restaurant parking lot and turns to me as I study him. “Were you in foster care with her?”
It’s plausible. Even if he’s older than her. "No. You were there the first time I met Penelope.”
“Then why do you seem so angry?”
“Because they hurt her.”
He drops his hands to his sides, and my hand brushes over the back of his scarred hand. “They hurt you.”
I watch his throat bob and see the agony under the surface. “My father did this. My own blood, not a foster parent.”
I stare at him in horror. My father is an asshole, but he never physically hurt me. “Why?”
His laugh is bitter and cold. “I was breathing too fucking loud probably. I don’t know. I was six.”
I want to cry for him. “Six?”
He nods. “He was a mean drunk.”
“I’m so sorry.” It’s a quiet whisper as my hand rests on top of his.
“I’m fine. It healed a long time ago, but it left an ugly fucking scar.” His face moves closer to mine, and I can feel his heat radiating toward me. “I have a lot of them.”
My eyes drift over his clothed torso and then back to his eyes. “Please tell me he was punished.”
“I don’t know.”
My brows furrow in confusion. “You don’t know?”
“He left right after the thing with my hand. Probably afraid my teacher would report it, which is exactly what she fucking did. He was already long gone, and I haven’t seen him since.”
“What about your mother?”
Please tell me his mother is at least halfway decent. “Worthless. Fucking headcase.”
“Who are you, Hayden West?”
The question escapes my mouth before I can stop it, leaving me slightly embarrassed. But it doesn’t faze him. His hand grips my chin as he forces me not to look away but instead right into his eyes. “Right now? I’m a starving guy who doesn’t want to talk anymore.”
I stare into his beautiful eyes and feel hunger like I've never known.
Only it’s not food I want.
Why can’t I shut the fuck up around her? I need to. I know I shouldn’t have told her about my father, but the way she stares at my scar . . . Fuck, it kills me.
Others have asked about it.
I've never talked about it until tonight.
We go into the crowded barbecue restaurant, and although it’s nothing like the Kansas City barbecue I’m used to, it’s damn close.
We eat dinner in silence, a quiet I fucking hate. But if I tell her who I really am and all of my reasons for tracking down her business, she’ll no doubt hate me.
And rightfully so.
When we go back out to the parking lot and reach my car, neither of us move to open her door. “I understand you not wanting to talk . . .”
She’s so fucking beautiful and curious. I can see her interest. I know she wants to know more about me, and it alarms me, something I’m not used to feeling. My left hand sweeps into her soft blond waves as my other hand rests on her hip, pulling her body to mine as my lips fuse with hers. For a moment I don’t think. For a brief moment, I'm lost in her full lips pressed against mine as they part, allowing my tongue to dart in and explore her mouth.
I’ve wanted to kiss her since the day she walked into that crowded coffee shop, but none of my fantasies were even close to the actual experience. Her small body presses against mine with feral hunger as my erection presses against her hip and she leans back against my car door.