“If I remember correctly, you want a man who will show up on Valentine’s Day with a dozen red roses and reservations, wearing a suit.”
I blush, feeling self-conscious. “I don’t think I said wearing a suit. And I was just teasing.” I bite my bottom lip, heat rising to my cheeks. Most woman would want those things, but I think we’d agree that aren’t necessary.
Mike smirks. “Well, Valentine’s Day is next week. You better go suit shopping, bro.”
Moxon seems to want to get off the topic as much as I do. He ignores his brother and looks back at me. “What else do you do to keep yourself busy?”
Grateful to turn the conversation away from Valentine’s Day, I smile. “I like to see my dad a few times a week, so he doesn’t get too lonely. He never remarried after my mom died and I get worried about him.”
“You grew up here?” Moxon asks, looking me over more closely.
“Yeah, Grove Park. I went to Glint Academy.”
Mike gives a low whistle. “Fancy shit.”
I twist my lips not wanting there to be a divide between us.
Moxon speaks up. “You should see the cards she designs. Millie has her own business. It’s fucking amazing.”
“Is that what you do full-time?
I nod. “Thankfully.”
Mike picks up his pint. “Your dad helps you out then? Can’t imagine cards bring in that much cash.”
I furrow my brows. If there is one thing I hate, it is a man thinking they know me when they know nothing at all. “Actually, I support myself.”
“I meant nothing by it,” Mike says, raising his hands in the air calling a truce. But it rubs me the wrong way all the same. “You know where Mox lives?”
I swallow. I don’t know where Mox lives and I hate his brother’s insinuation that I would care.
Moxon, though, just rolls his eyes. “Mike’s not always such an ass, I swear.”
“It’s okay, Moxon,” I say. The idea of him not being good enough gets farther and farther from my mind the more I get to know him. “Your brother just wants to know what kind of person I am. I can appreciate that.” Taking a deep breath, I give Mike a half-smile. “Here’s the deal, Mike. I live in a studio apartment, okay? I drive a thirty-year-old car and ordered a side of fries instead of a chicken burger because I just paid rent and money is tight. My dad may sell multi-million-dollar properties and be a member of the country club, but that’s not me.”
That shuts Mike up.
“Well, fucking-A.” Mike lifts his beer and clinks it to the rim of my glass. “To Millie being her own damn boss.”
I smile, appreciating the toast. “Thanks.” Then setting down my beer, I twist my lips. “I mean, he did pay for college, so I know I’ve got it good. But I don’t want to rely on my daddy for everything. He has already done enough for me.”
“Who are you?” Moxon asks, wrapping an arm around my shoulder. “You fucking blow me away, you know that?”
“So your dad is some hot shot real estate agent?” Mike asks.
I shrug. “Maybe? He does all sorts of sales though. Condos and houses. He’s done well for himself and gets a little protective of me.”
“I can understand why,” Moxon says, pulling me closer. “If you were mine, I wouldn’t let you out of my sight.”
Looking at my watch, I know he’s gonna have to let me go. “I have plans with my dad now, actually. I made them before we...”
Moxon nods, not making me finish my sentence. His phone is on the table and it buzzes.
Moxon’s eyes meet mine. “It’s not another woman, I swear. It’s my real-estate agent.”
“Very funny. Don’t mind me, answer it.”
“It’s okay, I want to walk you out first.”
Slipping out of the booth, I tell Mike it was nice to meet him. I pull out a twenty to set on the table, but the guys shoo my cash away.
Leaving the restaurant, I ignore the stares of the waitress and let Moxon lead me outside.
At my car, I turn to him and his arms pull me close without pause. With our foreheads nearly touching, I breathe him in. God, I love his smell.
“Is your daddy gonna hate that I’m not some finance guy in a suit, with a 401k and shit?”
I shake my head. “My dad isn’t like that.”
“You gonna tell him about me?”
“You want me to?”
Moxon nods, his eyes locked on mine. “I do.”
He kisses me then. This time it’s tender and timid, almost shy. Like we are embarking on something more than hot and heavy. We are turning into territory that feels all too real.
“So, can I have your cell number?” Moxon asks after he pulls away.
My eyes crinkle. “No.”
Moxon frowns. “No?”
I shake my head. “If you wanna take me out, why don’t you write me a card, asking me. Old school, personal, romantic.” I pull out a notepad from my purse and jot down my address.