Page 60 of Here With Me
After she sets both drinks down, he hands her his card, and as he slides the yellow liquid-filled glass in front of me, he brings his mouth to my ear.
“Because we’re bothscrewed. Enjoy.” His whisper sends shivers down my spine as his free hand wraps around the back of my stool.
That’s an understatement, I want to reply, but Jase approaching on my other side causes me to jump. Fisher puts a couple of inches between us and is so casual about it that you wouldn’t know his tongue was practically in my ear a moment ago.
“Hey, sorry I’m late.” Jase kisses my cheek. “Meetin’ ran late. Can you order me a Guinness? I’ll let the hostess know we’re ready.”
“Sure,” Fisher answers, keeping his gaze locked on Jase’s as his dances between us.
“Thanks.”
Once Jase walks away, I inhale a sharp breath, grab my drink, and take a long sip.
“Keep these comin’.”
Fisher shakes his head. “Not if you’re drivin’.”
I glare at him, wanting to argue, but I know he’s right.
“Okay, they’re ready for us.” Jase grabs his beer and wraps an arm around my waist when I stand.
As we follow the hostess, Jase asks how I’ve been. There’s an urge to shake him, but I stop myself so he won’t be suspicious about my sudden refusal of his touch.
“Good, busy as usual,” I tell him when he picks a seat at the square table.
Before I can do the same, Fisher pulls out my chair, and my eyes widen.
I turn and mouth, “What’re ya doin’?”
He furrows his brows as if he doesn’t understand the panic on my face.
“Oh shit, I shoulda done that.” Jase stands, reaching the back of my chair and motioning for me to sit. Once I do, he helps push me in, then squeezes my shoulder.
“A gentleman should always pull out a woman’s chair,” Fisher says when he takes his own next to me.
“Thanks for the reminder,Dad.” The way he emphasizes the word has me flinching.
Why is he being so rude?
The hostess waits until we’re all situated before setting down our menus and listing the specials. Once she leaves, I open mine so I can hide my face from Jase’s intense stare.
He wanted me here as a buffer, but now I’m worried he has other intentions.
“The Porterhouse sounds good,” Jase says. “I bet you’re gettin’ your favorite type.”
Why is he acting like he knows my favorite steak when the nicest restaurant he’s ever taken me to had chicken nuggets on the menu?
“Actually, I’m in the mood for shrimp.”
“At a steakhouse?” He scoffs, closing his menu with a smack. “Get the filet. You’ll like it.”
My head pounds as I think about yelling at him for being an arrogant asshole, but for the sake of keeping the peace, I stay quiet. I’ll order whatever I damn well please.
Fisher must notice my annoyance because he clears his throat and grabs his beer.
“I’m thinkin’ seafood, too. The crab legs sound good.” He takes a sip, ignoring Jase’s scowl.
Thankfully, our server appears and asks if we’re ready to order.
