Lover (Court University 4)

But I’d wanted to be alone.

He hadn’t let me, of course, doing one better and actually trying to get me to come down. It’d been a very unusual situation, which triggered my thoughts about all this now. He’d taken the initiative here. Like he wanted to please me or something. Like this was a date.

Or something.

His lighthearted expression completely faltered at the sight of mine. He raised his hands. “Really, you won’t offend me if we switch it up. And actually.” He grabbed a menu off the greeter’s podium. “I can show you what I ordered. If it doesn’t sound appealing, we can get you something new in now.”

Fuck me, if he didn’t tug a smile out of me. He kept doing that, tugging and borderline poking. I’d come in kind of hot at him tonight, but he managed to stand his ground.

And even get a pizza date out of me.

This isn’t a date.

No business did I have dating. Especially with a guy so obviously younger than me. I didn’t consider myself one of those with an age bias, but I was in my thirties and most recently, a divorcee. Yes, I had no business dating.

I smiled. “It’s fine.”

“You’re sure?” One of those thick eyebrows arched. “Seriously, it’s no problem. You don’t like what I picked, we can get that shit out of here.”

Laughter, like full blown laughter and right in front of him.

“Good laughter?” he questioned, angling into me, and that quieted me down a little. In fact, all but canceled in my throat when he gazed down at me. A soft dance hit his tawny brown eyes. “I’m not joking, Brielle. We can change it. No big.”

“Bri,” I said, my throat constricting a little. What the hell? “Only my mother calls me Brielle when I’m being a jerk.”

As well as colleagues and people I didn’t know, of course, which was why I’d introduced myself that way.

The dance of Ramses’s eyes touched his lips at that point, his head lowering in acknowledgment.

“Bri it is then.” He winked. Really, so cocky. Yet, whatever this was he passed off I was apparently completely here for.

Ramses returned the menu to the greeter, a twenty-something college guy, no doubt, with a stain on his apron and what appeared to be flour on his cheek. This place Ramses took us to was a complete and total dive, fully equipped with shoddy lighting and enough decals on the walls to act as a second coat of paint, and looking around the room, there was absolutely no one over the age of thirty.

Well, except for me.

I wondered if Ramses knew, not that he’d probably address such a thing. Despite his confidence, he appeared to be a gentleman, and I noticed he hadn’t brought up the whole me up on the high dive thing again. That might be for lack of time.

What have I gotten myself into?

How had I arrived here, in this place with a younger man? I was headed quick toward the wrong side of thirty, and though he may be in his late twenties, that still pushed almost a decade between us.

His hand hovering behind my back to guide me, this didn’t seem to matter to him. The greeter told us to sit where we wanted, and Ramses took the full initiative, seating us toward the back and away from the chaos of the foosball and billiard tables. Despite this place being a dive, it smelled good as hell.

My mouth instantly watered due to the yeasty smell of baking dough and hot cheese, and I slid my own wool coat off the moment we were in the booth. The thing was only slightly damp at this point, as I bared my shoulders and folded the garment.

I was tucking it away when I realized I wasn’t alone and that the man I’d come with had his eyes well placed in my direction. He hadn’t been shy about it either, his coat hovering for the briefest of seconds before he placed it down on the booth’s seat. All too quickly, he had his attention back on me, and I was suddenly rather aware of my bare shoulders.

And my flushing breasts.

They warmed to a hot pink across the swell, but I forced the fact out of my head, making my hands move. I took the measures to place my coat properly, and when I came back, of course, those observant eyes of his hadn’t left. If anything, his more than direct stare intensified.

Arrogant indeed.

Again, I must have been here for this as well. Because not only did I allow it, I made no mention of it, my hands folded across the table. The greeter eventually found us again, taking our drink orders, but then, Ramses and I were right back to where we were, him looking at me and me, for some reason, letting him do it.

Were we playing a game?

I didn’t know, ignoring the currently warm state of my tummy. It seemed the ballet dancer inside couldn’t seem to sit her fanny down, and I breathed, passing off what he was doing to study the decals of the various bands on the walls. There was a sign that invited all patrons to place their stickers there, hence all the action on the dive’s walls. It gave the place a delightful appeal, I suppose, youthful.