Page 7 of Marked

“I asked for the dressing on the side,” he grumbled when the waitress set our salads in front of us. “Christ, can’t you get anything right?”

Under normal circumstances, I would’ve already called him out on his less-than-stellar behavior, except he was the seventh man my friends had deemed worthy of my time. Maybe his nerves had short-circuited the place deep inside which made him a decent human being? With that thought in mind, I hunkered down and tried to give him the benefit of the doubt.

“Uh, Bill?”

“Mark.” He narrowed his gaze on me.

Whoops.

“Sorry. Mark, I’m sure they can make you a new one. Right?” I smiled at our poor waitress, Polly, who was on the verge of bursting into tears.

“O-of course,” she stuttered, reaching for the plate. Her hands shook so hard she nearly upended the whole thing in his lap, which—in my opinion—was exactly where it belonged.

“See? No harm, no foul,” I assured him as I laid the black cloth napkin across my lap and picked up my fork.

“Aren’t you going to wait for me?”

My stomach grumbled loudly, making the decision even easier. If Mark wanted to be an ass, so could I.

“Nope.” I stabbed a hunk of lettuce then shoved it in my mouth.

“Unbelievable.” Mark shook his head, muttering under his breath.

Aaand…I was done.

“Yeah, you really are.”

“Excuse me?”

“Lord knows I’ve been trying to.” I sat the fork down, leaned my elbows on the table, and folded my hands together. “I think it’s safe to say we should cut our evening short.”

“We’ve only been here twenty minutes,” he responded incredulously.

“Trust me, I’m aware. It’s twenty minutes of my life I’ll never be able to get back.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Instead of answering, I asked, “What do I do for a living, Mark?”

He opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, but otherwise didn’t utter a single syllable.

“Exactly my point. Had you bothered to ask, you’d have found out I’m an FBI agent.”

“Wow. Beautifulandyou carry a gun.” He grinned, flashing perfectly straight, obviously bleached teeth. He’d spent a fortune on his smile when he should’ve dumped money into buying a new personality.

I had to hand it to the guy though, he was smooth. Too bad his true colors had already shined brighter than the sun. I wasn’t desperate enough for a free meal to overlook bad manners. Surely, at twenty-seven years old, I could do better than the losers my friends had paraded in front of me.

God, I wish Noah were here.

Regardless of the number of dates I went on, my mind inevitably drifted to him at some point.Hewas the reason I judged each and every man who took me out so harshly andhe was also the reason why the first date never led to a second. It didn’t matter that he’d crushed my soul. No one could hold a candle to Noah Anderson.

“Thanks for the compliment, but it’s too late to salvage the night.”

Lifting my purse from the back of my chair, I moved to stand when he stopped me with a sweaty palm to my forearm.

“I'll go. You stay and enjoy your meal.”

He stood and without a backward glance, strolled out the front door of the upscale restaurant, leaving me to pay the bill.

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