Page 118 of Damaged Mogul
He narrows his eyes in warning.
We find a free spot and drop everything to the ground.
In no time, Gage has the blankets and the food spread out.
He invites me to take a seat.
I lower myself to the blanket, fold my legs underneath me, and drop my new adorable mini blue leather Louis Vuitton bagto the side. It’s part of the list of things I was forcedto buy because of the situation with my luggage. With my hands free, I fan my midi skirt around me.
Gage sits cross-legged on the gray checkered blanket. His long legs resemble a giant pretzel.
He pushes his designer shades over his head.
Oh hell, those eyes.
Under the bright sun, they’re almost translucent.
He winks.
Stop ogling at him. The man will end up with an inflated ego.
He shifts his attention, rummaging through the picnic basket. “We have three sandwich selections.”
“Which ones?”
“Roast beef with caramelized onions and arugula cheese, chicken salad with homemade mayo and walnuts served on black olive rye bread, and fancy muffaletta.”
“What’s that last one? It sounds Italian.”
“It is,” he says. “It’s two slices of focaccia bread slathered with a tangy olive spread and layered with mortadella, uncured salami, uncured ham, and provolone.”
My stomach grumbles again.
“It’s settled. The fancy muffaletta for the lady.”
“Sorry, but that sounded delicious.”
“I agree. That’s why I grabbed three.”
I frown.
“One for you, and two for me.” He shrugs. “I’m a big boy.”
“Don’t I know it.”
“You weren’t complaining last night or this morning.”
Damn, he always one-ups me.
He hands me a lunchbox, containing my sandwich, a small portion of vegetable sticks, and a favorite from last night I couldn’t get enough of.
I meet his gaze. “Coleslaw?”
“You went on and on about it, so I made a special request. It’s part of their midnight menu, but again, that’s where knowing the owner pays off.”
I flash him a warm smile. “Thank you.” I’m overwhelmed.
“Don’t mention it.”
