I angle the menu to my chest so I can look at him unencumbered. “I’m always hungry, Mr. Mason.”
He wants to make a face. I can tell. But for reasons unbeknownst to me, he refrains.
Frustrating man.
“Do you ever just, like, I don’t know—breathe?” I ask. “Go with the flow? Not run your life in ten-minute intervals?”
He stares at me for a long few seconds without blinking. Then he looks down at his menu. “No.”
I roll my eyes. I’m about to make a comment when Wade’s phone goes off.
Again.
And again.
And again.
I quirk a brow. “I think someone needs you.”
He discards the menu with a huff and then snatches up the device. After a quick glance and an even quicker reply, he shuts off the ringer.
The aggravation on his face verges on being adorable. His displeasure should not give me so much amusement, but it does. It’s too much of a juxtaposition of inherent sexiness and indignant petulance to handle.
I set my menu down too. Lacing my fingers together, I rest my chin in them. “Was that someone warning you of a ten-minute delay?”
“No,” Wade says without looking up.
“That’s good, I guess.” I poke a little further just to get a rise out of him. “You know, if you made Eliza a little less nervous, she might remember to text everything in one long stream rather than sending you four hundred one-sentence messages.”
He raises his eyes to meet mine. “First, Eliza is new. She’ll settle in. And, two, that was my mother letting us know that my sister-in-law is not having her baby today.” He pauses, his jaw flexing. “There. Does that make you happy?”
I sit back and hold my hands up. “I didn’t ask.”
“Yes, you did.”
“I did not. I just made some assumptions. But,” I say, leaning forward, “you’re going to be an uncle. That’s exciting!”
His face doesn’t change. It stays mostly blank.
“Come on,” I goad him. “You have to be excited.”
“I can barely contain myself.”
He puts his glasses back on as the server returns. We make our orders—chicken fingers for me and a chicken sandwich for Wade.
As soon as the server leaves, he gets down to business.
“I have a form I’d like to go over with you. I’m having Eliza email you a copy—provided we have your email address. You can email the office with any questions you are unsure about today or any questions you want to think about,” he says, sliding a piece of paper across the table. “Here is a hard copy.”
“Okay.”
He clears his throat. “My first question is regarding where this house will be built. We don’t have to know, but if you do or if you have a solid idea, it’s helpful to take that into account.”
I squirm in my seat. Despite knowing this is exactly what we would be talking about today, I’m unprepared.
All of a sudden, everything feels so real.
I focus on the paper Wade gave me. The words blur together as my mind chooses this moment to solidify the fact that I’m doing this. Alone. I have no one to give me guidance. Worst of all, I don’t even know if I want to be doing it at all.
“Dara?”
“Sorry.” I look up and sigh. “There is a place that my grandfather mentioned building it, but I’m not totally sure.”
Wade’s forehead mars. “I’m assuming you have a say in it.”
“Of course.”
Our gazes lock together moments before Wade’s eyes begin to search mine. His efforts are as intense as everything else about him, and I want to look away … but I can’t.
Finally, we’re interrupted by the server and our food.
“Thank you,” I say as she places my platter in front of me. I tune Wade out as he converses with her briefly about his coffee.
My chest is tight as I scramble to find another talking point. Relief courses through me when Wade diverts the conversation on his own.
“Do you need anything else?” he asks, his voice noticeably softer.
I shake my head. “I’m good. What more could a girl want besides chicken strips and steak fries?”
He grins. It’s slight and so fast that I would’ve missed it if I didn’t look up at the exact right moment. But, lucky for me, I did.
I smile back at him, and it only grows when he looks away, clearly perturbed at being caught in such a ridiculous act.
“It’s critical we identify how you use your space currently and how you envision yourself using the new space,” he says, back to business. “Have you given this much thought?”
“Nope.”
He looks up with surprise.
“Okay. I gave it a bit of thought last night,” I admit. “But I don’t really have any specific plans.”
His fork clinks as he sets it on the side of his plate. “You do realize that I’m going to need your input in order to make this project successful, right?”