Page 62 of Just The Way You Aren't

“I’m a true believer now,” Damien says, dabbing his chin with a napkin. “And you weren’t kidding when you called it a Cheesy Louisey.”

Billy continues to stand by us, beaming.

“Um… a little privacy, Billy?” Damien finally asks. “This booth is a bit crowded with three.”

“Right. Of course.” Billy grins widely. “It’s just so nice to see Willow with somebody who appreciates a good burger. You’re good people.” He pats Damien on the shoulder and leaves.

“Do you really like it?” I ask.

“I can tell you it’s better than whatever they were going to serve us at Anton’s,” he replies. He takes another bite and wipes his chin again. “Not sure this shirt is going to survive the experience, though.”

“It’s not meant to.” I bite into my own burger. The combination of jalapeño cheddar and savory seasoned burger is heavenly. "So, the fundraiser's Thursday," I say, stealing one of his fries. "I still can't believe we're doing this at The Plaza."

"You sound nervous," he observes, dabbing his chin with a napkin.

"A little. I keep thinking about all the people who'll be there - potential donors, board members, Mrs. Hollingsworth..." I trail off, biting my lip. The truth is, I'm worried about looking good enough to stand beside him, but I can't exactly say that. "I'm mostly worried about what to wear, if I'm being honest. I want to look professional."

"You always look great," he says simply. "But if you're looking for something specific, there's a boutique near my office called Bella's. They carry formal wear, and I've heard their sales staff is really good at helping people find the right dress."

"Bella's?" I try to sound casual, though I'm already wondering if they have anything under three hundred dollars. Which would still be stretching it for my meager budget. "I'll check it out."

"If you decide to go, you can mention I suggested it. The staff knows me. They might be able to help you find something you like."

"That's really kind of you, Damien. I appreciate the recommendation." His thoughtfulness catches me off guard. He's actually worried about me feeling confident Thursday night. It makes my chest warm and my heart sink at the same time. Because Thursday night marks the end of our deal, doesn't it?

After the fundraiser succeeds, he goes back to his regular life, and I go back to mine. No more interrupting his perfectly scheduled days. No more burgers together at Billy’s. No more... us.

"You okay?" he asks, studying my face.

"Perfect," I reply, forcing brightness back into my voice. "Just thinking about everything we need to wrap up before Thursday."

"The guest list is looking strong," he says. "I think it's going to be a great success."

"It better be," I laugh, "after all the work you've put into making it happen."

"We've put into it," he corrects, reaching across to squeeze my hand.

We.The word feels both natural and temporary, and I can't decide which feeling wins.

Damien and I eat in hungry silence for a bit, then start talking once more over the last of our French fries. We rehash the day and find ourselves laughing all over again.

Finally, there are no fries left, the malts are gone, and it’s just the two of us staring across the table at each other. I see something again in Damien’s eyes and it makes my breath catch. “What do you want to do after this?” I ask huskily.

“Hopefully, the same thing you want to do,” he replies without a single pause. “Back at your place?”

I swear his gaze is hotter than the molten cheese on Billy’s burgers. As far as romantic settings go, senior bingo night followed by an obscene amount of junk food is a far cry from what Damien must be used to, but it seems to be working for him. It’s working for me, too. Every fiber of my being is thrumming with desire for him.

I nod. Swallow hard. “Yeah, that sounds… great. My place.”

His mouth curves in a sexy smile that makes me want to jump him right here in our booth. “Let’s get out here.”

The short driveto my apartment feels like it takes forever. Damien's hand rests high on my thigh, his fingers warm through the thin fabric of my skirt. Each time he makes a turn, his grip tightens slightly, sending electricity up my spine.

I steal glances at his profile as he drives. His face is relaxed but focused, so different from the rigid, schedule-obsessed man I first met. Today I've watched him call bingo numbers, help seniors with their cards, and devour a messy burger with genuine enjoyment. It's like seeing a completely different side of him—a side I'm not sure many people get to see.

"What are you thinking about?" he asks, catching me staring.

"You," I admit, feeling unexpectedly shy. "Today was... nice."

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