Page 90 of Toxic Temptation
Wrong move, sweetheart.
“Vesper tells me you have a job you’d like me to consider,” Waylen says cautiously.
I raise an eyebrow at her. “Then she misrepresented the situation. She’s the one pushing for this meeting because she was worried you couldn’t find work. I agreed out of courtesy, nothing more.”
Vesper’s mouth falls open. “That’s not?—”
“Vesper mentioned you want custody of your nephew,” Waylen interrupts. “Do you really think that’s wise if you don’t have time for him?”
“Waylen!” Vesper swats his hand.
“It’s a fair question,” he doubles down.
I meet his gaze. The guy doesn’t seem at all intimidated by me. In fact, he seems pretty hell bent on disliking me. Considering I’m of the same mind, I felt myself feeling a begrudging sense of admiration for him.
“No, it’s okay. The fact is that, unlike some people, I have a full-time job,” I say evenly. “But I still make time for Luka. What I need is someone who can care for him and teach him. He’s smart but easily bored. He needs individual attention from someone who can adapt to his personality instead of forcing him to conform.”
Waylen’s eyebrow arches, and I can see the beginnings of respect in his expression.
“Ready to order?” The waitress appears, glancing between us like she senses the tension.
I look at Vesper. “Let me guess. French press coffee?”
She flushes, a shy smile breaking across her face. “Actually?—”
“She’ll have the affogato,” Waylen cuts in, handing over his menu. “Triple shot espresso with an extra shot of caramel. And I’ll take an Americano.”
I wait for Vesper to tell him she can order for herself.
… She doesn’t.
Instead, she beams at him. “You read my mind.”
How the fuck did I become the third wheel on a date with my own girlfriend?
“And for you, sir?” The waitress turns to me.
“Nothing.”
“You’re not having anything?” Vesper frowns.
“No.”
She fixes me with a sharp look, then smiles sweetly at the waitress. “He’ll have black coffee. Maybe it’ll improve his mood.”
The waitress hurries away, no doubt sensing the brewing storm.
“Black coffee guy, huh?” Waylen attempts small talk.
I ignore him and focus on Vesper. “Since when do you drink affogatos?”
“Since she was a teenager,” Waylen answers for her.
Again, I wait for her to shut him down.
Again, she doesn’t.
“It was always my celebration drink,” she explains quietly. “High school graduation, college, getting into medical school.”
