Page 48 of The Persistence of Thornes
“I can get my own, Caleb.”
Mouth pressed into a line, I stare down at her, and I don’t let up until she starts to squirm. “It was my idea to get burgers. Ergo, I’ll be buying.”
“Ergo,” she mutters. “Fine.” With a huff, she takes a step closer to the counter. “Just a plain cheeseburger and small fry.”
“How about I get a large fry and we share?”
“That’s fine.” She worries her bottom lip between her teeth, eyeing the order board.
“Drink?” I ask her.
“Um… I’ll take a Sprite.”
“You got it,.” I pull out my wallet and smile at the cashier approaching the counter. “Go pick a spot. I’ll be there in a minute.”
She hesitates, eyeing me, but rather than argue, she nods once. “Okay.”
Other guys might find Halle’s flippant responses and her need to remind me that she can take care of herself frustrating. But it doesn’t bother me a bit. Maybe because I see it for what it really is. Self-reliance is a great quality to have, but she’s never known anything different, so she holds a little too tight to it. It’s ingrained in her. Being taken care of is as foreign to her as another language. It’ll take time for her to overcome the need to reject my offers of help, but in time, I hope to prove that she can count on me too.
After I’ve ordered, I stand off to the side to wait, collecting salt, ketchup, and malt vinegar packets.
Halle scrolls on her phone from the booth she chose, sneaking looks my way every so often.
When she looks a third time and meets my eyes, she sticks her tongue out and mouths, “Stop staring at me.”
Crossing my arms over my chest, I grin and shake my head.
“Here you go, dear,” the older woman behind the counter says, getting my attention.
“Thanks.” I flash her a smile and drop the condiments onto the tray.
“You were staring at me, Thorne,” Halle accuses as I approach the table.
“I was.” I slide into the seat across from her and pass her the burger with the red sticker that readsPlainon its wrapper.
“You don’t even deny it.” She shakes her head, lips twitching.
As I unwrap my burger, I arch a single brow at her. “Why would I?”
She presses her lips together, a silent war raging in her dark eyes, like she can’t decide whether to answer the question truthfully or not. Eventually, she exhales and says, “I’m beginning to think my brothers were right when they said you have a crush on me.”
As we stare at one another, a flush creeps up her neck and into her cheeks.
A thrill zips through me. “I do.”
Her jaw drops, and she sputters nonsensically.
“And don’t even think about believing that I only offered you a place to stay because of that. I would’ve done it for anyone in need. And don’t worry, I’m not going to ask you out.”
Voice small, she asks, “You’re not?”
I swallow a bite of burger and wipe my mouth with a napkin. “No. I won’t put you in that position. You work for me, and for now, you live with me. I don’t want you to think that you owe me a shot because of that.”
“What if…” She drops her attention to her untouched burger. “What if I wanted you to?”
My stomach drops in surprise, the sensation so sudden I feel like I’m free-falling off a cliff. “Wanted me to what?” Ipress. I’m pretty sure I know what she means, but I ask for clarification anyway.
“Ask me on a date.”
