Page 22 of Mob Star

She just finished folding the laundry, and my dad will put it away. We’re going to find a graduation gift for my sister-in-law. We could order something online and probably will, but it’s a good excuse to spend time with my mom. They don’t live far outside the city in Long Branch, but I don’t come out here that often because of work. Sometimes they come into the city, but neither of them likes it much. I give my dad another hug as I walk past, then my mom and I head out. This wasn’t what I expected to hear today.

“How was your day?”

Finn holds the restaurant door open for me, and I barely keep from grimacing. I let the subject rest with my parents, but when my mom and I were looking at gifts, it was a silent albatross around both our necks.

“It was nice.”

He glances down at me and draws me aside before we can get to the host’s stand. He’s watching me, and I feel like he sees into my very marrow.

“What happened, cailín?”

“Nothing.”

“Tell me you’d rather not say. Don’t tell me nothing because I know it’s something.”

That’s not disconcerting as fuck.

“How can you tell?”

“Nothing about how you said nice sounded genuine. It’s how someone deflects when they don’t think the other person wants to hear how shitty something was. When I asked what happened, you glanced down. You did that at the bar yesterday, and I told you it was a tell. You only shifted your gaze to my shoulder for a second, but I saw it.”

“Are you always that observant?”

“Yes.”

I wait for more, but he’s not forthcoming. Now who’s turn is it to be evasive? But as I look at him, it dawns on me. He’s probably got eyes like a hawk because of whatever situations he winds up in. The ones he’ll lie about.

He wraps his arm around my waist and draws me close enough that we can speak without anyone else hearing. His hand on my waist feels good.

“Thea, this is our first date. We still don’t know each other, but I told you there are things I’m going to lie about. It’s hypocritical of me to demand you tell me everything. I won’t. Your thoughts are your own and always will be. But I won’t lie to you if I don’t have to. Please don’t lie to me. Just tell me you don’t want to talk about it, and I’ll respect that.”

“Thank you. I just got some news today that was upsetting. It’s nothing catastrophic, but it’s going to take some sorting out.”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

Whack my dad’s uncle? Not quite the request you make on a first date.

“No. But thank you for offering. It means a lot.” And it does.

He puts his forefinger underneath my chin and nudges upward. He presses a soft kiss to right beside my mouth.

“Neither of us would be here if we wanted to be fuck buddies. I’ve told you I don’t date or do random hook ups. You know what I am. You wouldn’t be anywhere near me if you thought this would be a couple dates or a few amazing fucks. If there’s anything I can do, tell me. You don’t have to ask, little one. Just tell me.”

As my green eyes meet his green eyes, I know he’s telling me the truth. Our different shades of green are a fitting metaphor. We’re very much alike, but at the same time, we are so completely different. He pulls back, and I go on my toes to steal a quick kiss before we walk to the host’s stand. The man standing behind a stack of menus looks at me as though my tits and ass are hanging out like an invitation. I’m in a knee-length dress that fully covers my cleavage. Then he looks at Finn and freezes. I glance up at Finn, and his expression is enough to make the devil run away. His arm goes back around my waist, and the vein in the maître d’s left temple jumps out. He looks like he’s going to shit himself.

“Mr. O’Rourke?—”

“Do not.”

Do not what? Speak? Apologize? Finn didn’t bark an order, but it was clearly a command. The man just dips his chin and gathers two menus. I walk between the guy and Finn. The maître d’ reaches for my chair, but Finn gets to it first. I can feel the anger pulsating off him as he moves aside to let me get to my seat. He’s gentle as he pushes it in. The man hands me a menu first then Finn, but Finn puts it on the table without a glance.

“Have you been here before?” I shift my gaze from Finn to the maître d when he makes a strangled sound at my question. His face is so red, I’m actually alarmed. I’m ready to stand and offer the man my seat.

“I own this place.”

Oh! Now I nearly laugh in the maître d’s face. No wonder he looks ready to shit himself. He looked at his boss’s date like I’m Julia Roberts out of Pretty Woman— a hooker. Since I’m appropriately dressed, I suppose I can take his lasciviousness as a compliment. It was poorly shown appreciation.

Nope. From the way Finn’s still looking at the man, then the way the guy beats a hasty retreat, I would say that isn’t remotely how Finn sees it. I suppose I shouldn’t either.

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