"Fair enough. Mine includes a great-uncle who got arrested for wrestling an alligator while drunk and dumping it in his mistress' lawn, so I get the whole 'complicated' thing."
Dane raises an eyebrow.
"Uncle Beau lost a pinky finger, but gained a hell of a story." I take another bite of pasta. "Also, I made that up. Just checking if you're paying attention."
He leans back slightly, studying me. "I'm always paying attention, Lila."
The way he says my name—like he's tasting it—sends a shiver down my spine.
"Anyway," he continues, twisting his water glass, "family talk tends to scare people off. Figure I'd save that for, what, the third date?"
"Bold of you to assume there'll be a third," I counter, but I'm smiling.
"Bold of you to assume there won't."
His confidence should irritate me, but instead, I feel a flutter of anticipation. Tessa would be having a field day hearing this.
"I don't know," I say, feigning seriousness. "Depends if you've got any other skeletons hiding in that closet of yours, Wolfe."
"Nothing that bites," he replies, then adds with a hint of danger, "hard."
I nearly choke on my wine.
When the waiter slides the check onto our table in a leather folder, I feel my stomach plummet. I've been deliberately not looking at menu prices all night, focusing instead on Dane's unexpected laugh and the way his forearms flex when he gestures. Now reality crashes back.
"So..." I say, eyeing the leather folder like it might bite. "About that."
Dane reaches for it without hesitation.
"Wait." I put my hand on the folder. "I just… I should probably tell you something."
He raises an eyebrow, waiting.
"I, um—" God, this is embarrassing. "I didn't actually pick this place. Tessa did. She's my best friend, the one who loaned me this dress. She has expensive taste because her family's loaded, and she doesn't understand normal people budgets, and I didn't realize how fancy it was until I got here, and I don't want you thinking I'm the kind of person who expects?—"
"Lila." His voice cuts through my rambling.
"Yeah?"
"Take a breath."
I inhale deeply, cheeks burning. "I can pay for my half." My bank account screams in protest. Guess I'll be eating ramen until payday. Again.
Dane studies me for a moment, his eyes seeing way more than I want them to. "You're worried I think you chose an expensive restaurant to take advantage."
Well, when he puts it that bluntly...
"Maybe? It's just—I work for tips, you know? I understand budgets. And first dates shouldn't come with financial pressure." I twist my napkin. "I don't want to be that girl."
"What girl?"
"The high-maintenance one. The gold-digger. Whatever." I wave my hand dismissively. "I don't care about money. I'm not impressed by it."
A small smile plays at the corner of his mouth. "You're worried about the wrong things."
"Easy for you to say, Mr. I-can-afford-a-tailored-shirt." Shit, that came out bitchier than intended. "Sorry, that was?—"
"Accurate." He looks amused rather than offended. "The check isn't a problem, Lila."