Page 38 of The Playboy and the Waitress

I see Dage frown at his mother when he sees her watching us. He simply picks up the other girl's card and moves it to where my spot was, so that I would be right next to him. When we finally sit down, I have to stop myself from slipping my shoes off and rubbing my feet. Lord, is this evening ever going to end? My feet are killing me, and the atmosphere is anything but welcoming. Nothing like knowing you are not wanted to set the mood for a great evening.

The food just keeps coming out, serving after serving. I can’t eat a bite. My nerves are shot, and this always upsets my stomach. Dage must have noticed as I am simply playing with it.

“Jenna, are you ok? Please don’t let mother’s little matchmaking antics worry you.”

I simply nod my head. “I have a question, all the girls you came in with at the roadhouse, they all live up here, right?”

“Yea, the majority of them do.”

“You mean they drove all the way to Ashland from here to go on a date with you?”

“I didn’t know that until I was a few dates into it, or that Mom was providing them with transportation and rooms.”

“Why is she so determined to get you married off?”

“This isn’t the place to have that conversation. You should try the chocolate melty cake. I believe you will love it.”

I look over at him and wonder at what point did he become one of them? Who is he really? I have seen so many different personalities, it’s like he simply adapts to his environment. His way of coping, I reckon, in situations he doesn’t know how to handle. How sad…

I will say for the most part, Dage keeps his word and never leaves my side. The only time he walks away is when he joins his mother at the front of the room, as she gives a small speech thanking everyone for coming.

It is rather late when the party finally starts to settle down. The moment we enter a quiet hallway, I stop him long enough to slip my shoes off.

“Damn, I think my feet are numb. I should have picked flats. I couldn’t tell you the last time I wore dress shoes for that long.”

“You looked beautiful all evening. I caught many an eye looking your way as we were forced to mingle.”

“You mean all the death stares, yeah… I noticed those. At one point, I was worried I was about to be flogged by one of the mothers looking to marry you into their family. I do believe, Playboy, that you have left out a great deal about yourself in our many talks. I was not prepared for this spectacle you put me through this evening.”

He opens up a door and I practically swallow my tongue. “Dage, you are making this all up aren’t you? There is no way you actually grew up here.”

He shrugs his jacket off and slings it onto the bed before he kicks off his shoes. The bed is big enough for four people easily. Every piece of furniture in this room is delicately detailed and it screams expensive. This is one of those bedrooms you would see in a magazine. This room has all the pieces of furniture in it to make it look like a bedroom, but there is nothing comfortable or soothing about it. Not a single personal effect, no school pictures, or trophies, just a whole lot of expensive nothingness.

I can tell by the set of his shoulders he is frustrated, and just as he starts to say something to me, someone knocks on the door. I walk over and open it, only to find that butler guy again. “Mistress Hart has asked for your attendance in her private parlor.”

Before I can say anything, Dage replies, “Tell Mother we will be along in a few minutes, Bentley, thank you.”

When I shut the door, I could practically cry. Will this nightmare ever end? I want out of these clothes so bad; my skin is crawling.

“Jenna, I know this has been a long evening, but I figured she would do something like this. Especially since I told her we were leaving in the morning. I promise, I will find a way to make this up to you.”

“Why don’t you go on? She doesn’t want me there. You go spend the evening or should I say the rest of tonight with your parents. I'm going to crash.”

“What did you say to me once, you didn’t see me as the cowardly type. Go throw on something more comfortable and meet me out here in five.”

“Like my sort of comfortable, or yours?”

“Yours.”

“Ok, you have been warned.”

The moment I walk through the door of his bathroom. I yank that damn itchy sweater off, throwing it to the floor. Following it quickly are the pants that seem to have crawled up my ass all evening. I grab my favorite sweatpants and a baggy t-shirt I brought with me and practically groan as they caress my skin. Apparently, I'm allergic to expensive clothes and people. My poor feet have marks all over them because of the straps and my heels are killing me.

I walk out barefooted and I’m happy to see that Dage has on a pair of cotton shorts and a t-shirt, he almost looks normal again.

“Is this too casual to see your mother?”

“Who cares? I swear you are the only woman alive that can make a pair of sweatpants look adorable. Are you wearing shoes or going like that?”

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