Wyatt grins. “My kind of girl. You won’t regret it.”
When our waiter comes by, we place our order. Since we have to go back to work afterward, we get soft drinks. I need to be clearheaded to deal with my boss because there’s no telling what he’s going to throw at me after a month away.
I sigh longingly at their beer options. “I bet it’d be great with a cold Pacifico.”
Wyatt places a hand on his chest. “Be still, my heart. Maybe next time.”
We chat about nothing in particular. He lets me see some pictures from his mom, which show Vi having a lot of fun with her grandparents. I smile at her light, happy expression. Good for her. She deserves some fun after that clusterfuck of a wedding. Thinking about it spikes my blood pressure again. There’s a special flaming hole in hell—no, below hell—with Geneva’s name on it.
“By the way, you know anybody who’s looking to become an assistant?” Wyatt asks.
“Not at the moment. Why?”
“I need one. I have an interview this afternoon, but I’m not sure if she’ll work out. She had another interview this morning. If it weren’t for Melanie, I would’ve already had a new one by now.” He tells me how Melanie conveniently “forgot” to tell him about the potential candidate.
Wow. I knew his assistant sucked, but this is full-blown sabotage. “I’ll ask around,” I say, although I’m not too optimistic. All the best assistants I know are already working. Bosses who know what they’re doing treat their assistants well, especially if they’re good at their job. “But let me know how things go with your candidate this afternoon.”
“Thanks.” He smiles.
Just then, our order arrives. The bacon strips are perfectly browned, the cheese still melting over the sizzling patties. Since the food looks so amazing—and because I’m feeling a little catty—I pull out my phone, snap a picture and send it to Mom. She can look at my lunch and weep, while gnawing on raw radishes and celery to maintain her trophy-body thinness.
That done, I pick up the huge burger and take a bite. Holy cow. It’s so, so good—hot, juicy and flavorful beef enhanced by salty cheese and crispy bacon. The sour hint of pickles adds to the overall effect. No wonder that asshole Dane invested with the owner.
“Like it?” Wyatt’s eyes are twinkling.
I nod, chewing my food and swallowing. “Yes. It’s amazing.” I take another bite, then another. The fries are great too, especially dipped with their specialty ketchup, which has a perfect balance of tanginess and sweetness.
After a few silent moments of eating, my face prickles. I realize Wyatt’s been staring.
“What?” I ask, suddenly feeling awkward. Do I have ketchup on my face? I start to reach for a napkin.
“It’s just… I can’t remember the last time one of my dates actually enjoyed her food.”
“Maybe you took them to crappy restaurants,” I joke.
“Nope. They just nibbled, or ate salad.” He takes a big bite of his burger.
I shrug. “That’s their thing. I exercise at least three times a week so I can eat what I want. Life’s too short to live on lettuce, and it isn’t my job to be a size two. That’s for models and aspiring trophy wives.” I sneer on the last part. “I’m more than a dress size.” Contrary to what my mom insists.
“I’m more interested in your brain size,” he deadpans, while pointedly letting his eyes rest on my chest.
“Rein it in, sparky. Women don’t carry their brains in their breasts.”
“Hmm. Jury’s out on that, too.”
I raise an eyebrow, but I also laugh.
“Glad you’re feeling better,” Wyatt says. “You’ve been a little preoccupied here.”
“It’s just… Mom’s going to find out we’re dating, and she’ll probably just show up here one day to ‘help things along.’”
“You’re close?” he asks, sounding surprised. Everyone in my hometown knows Mom and I have our differences, even if they don’t know exactly why. I was too ashamed to advertise my mom’s materialistic tendencies.
“No. But she’s really going to want to get to know you better and all that.”
I stop, wondering just how much I should say. Mom’s obsession with marrying rich guys is totally embarrassing. But at the same time, I want Wyatt to know what he’s getting into. He’s calling himself my boyfriend, and Mom’s going to come at both of us, doing her best to manipulate us into marrying each other, not because of love but because of Wyatt’s net worth.
Very slowly, I breathe in and out, choosing my words carefully. “Mom wants to live vicariously through me. You know she married, like, five times, right?”