Page 12 of Dick

I acted unaffected by his sexual innuendo. “Oh, we’re going to dinner, huh? I didn’t hear you ask.”

“I’ve got a reservation at 9:00. For two.”

I glanced at the tequila. I wanted him to drink them both and see how he’d act, but I felt like I needed one – if not both – before I agreed to go to dinner. “So, what, you’re just driving around asking women if they’ll go with you until you find someone dumb enough to agree?”

He picked up a lime and bit into it. His mouth puckered and he shook his head. “Jesus. You’re a mouthy little bitch. Are you the same girl I met the other day?”

I watched him threaten a man’s life over an unpaid debt. He had a gun, a laser sharp glare, an attitude, and a really big dick. In the alley, he was intimidating. Now, sitting across from me, he wasn’t. His eyes met mine. I felt weak.

In a good way.

“I was tired. I’d been up late and hadn’t eaten. I was off my game,” I lied. “So, you just stopped in to ask me to dinner?”

He sniffed the lime. “I couldn’t get you or your cute little ass off my mind. So, I made the reservation for us. You and me.”

I lifted my eyes from the tequila. My mouth was salivating. I met his gaze. “Before you asked me?”

He nodded. “I didn’t need to ask. I could see it in your eyes.”

“Arrogant much?”

He raised his eyebrows in acknowledgement of my sarcastic remark, then studied me as he sucked on the lime. “You’re sure a mouthy little bitch. And I’m not arrogant. I’m astute.”

I already decided. I was going. I wanted to know more about him. How, at less than 30 years old he was driving a new Mercedes-Benz.

And why he carried a gun.

Somewhere between conversations about guns, money, and Wednesday night dinner dates, maybe we could discuss the bulge in his jeans.

“Where?” I asked.

I really didn’t care. He could have said Burger King, and I would have agreed.

He slumped in his seat slightly, studied me, and shook his head as if he couldn’t believe his eyes.

I liked it.

A lot.

“The Brisco,” he said.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.

The Brisco was an upscale restaurant that charged $200 a plate for dinner, and $20 for a drink. I wasn’t dressed for the occasion. Hell, I couldn’t dress for the occasion.

“I can’t go wearing this, and my roommate is banging her college quarterback boyfriend and I can’t go home until midnight.” I shrugged. “So changing is out of question.”

I didn’t have a roommate, but it sounded good. It was my way out of his dinner offer without telling him I didn’t own anything that The Brisco would allow me to wear.

He lifted one of the shot glasses and sniffed it. “No shit? Who’s he play for?”

“Former. He’s out now. Works as a bouncer.”

“Where?”

“I don’t know. I’m not dating him, she is.” I stood up and pointed to my shorts. “But I can’t wear this. Thanks, though.”

“Forget your lame assed excuses, you’re going. The mall closes at 10:00. I’ll buy a dress.”