Corps Security, The Series (2)(21)

Well, thank God I didn’t offend him. So far, so good.

“Yeah, sorry. Must be weird being on the other end of an anti-hug person.”

We both laugh and make our way into the restaurant.

It doesn’t take long to get a table, and for once, there isn’t any awkward silence or overly flirtatious behavior with the staff. He seems genuinely interested in what I have to say.

“So, Phillip, tell me a little about yourself. You mentioned that you own a construction company?” I grab my water and take a sip, waiting for him to answer. I’m shocked that I’m actually enjoying myself.

“Please call me Phil. My father is Phillip, and I feel like I need to have a sweater vest on when people call me by my full name.” He flashes his bright, white teeth when he smiles at me. Damn, he might be as close to perfect as I’m going to find. “Or then again, it could be my mother yelling at me.” He laughs at his own joke, and I smile, waiting for him to continue. “I opened up my company about ten years ago. I worked through college building houses, and it just seemed like the right thing for me. I knew what I was doing and had years of connections to get the jobs done cheap. We do everything from small home repairs to complete demo and remodels. It’s fun, and I love working with my hands. Just kind of fit.”

“It must be impossible to work in the Georgia heat during the summers. I couldn’t imagine working outdoors. But then again, I pretty much sprint from air-conditioned building to air-conditioned car when it goes over eighty.”

“It’s definitely not a walk in the park, that’s for sure. I’ve been lucky, and my company does well, so the majority of the heavy work I contract out. I spend most of my working hours in the office, telling others how to do their job.”

We’re interrupted for a second when our food arrives, and a comfortable silence settles around us. The noise of the other diners around us fills in the blank in conversation. We make eye contact a few times, his eyes heating with blatant desire.

“Do you mind me asking about the baby’s father? I don’t mean to overstep. I just want to know what I’m dealing with.” He actually blushes at that, and I can’t help but smirk at his obvious discomfort in asking.

“I don’t mind. He . . . uh, he passed away earlier this year. It wasn’t a planned pregnancy, and unfortunately, I never had a chance to tell him.” I can feel the familiar tears burning my nose and threatening to fall from my eyes, but I quickly blink them back and push off the nagging guilt that my child’s father isn’t ever going to be here.

“Oh God, I’m so sorry.” His eyes flash with embarrassment and sympathy, and I reach out to grab his hand—reassuring him that he hasn’t offended me.

“It’s okay. You didn’t know. I’ve had time to come to terms with it, and I’m excited for he or she to come.”

“I can imagine. I’ve got to say, if you hadn’t told me about the baby, I never would have guessed you were expecting.”

“Oh trust me, you can definitely tell. I swear, if my feet swell any more, I’ll end up barefoot before I even hit the halfway mark,” I laugh and go to take another bite of my burger when I notice that Phil’s gone oddly silent.

His eyes, which had a spark of heat behind them, are now full-out blaring.

“Are you okay?” I question.

He doesn’t say anything for the longest time. His jaw ticks a few times and his eyes just burn into mine. It isn’t until he reaches under the table with one tan forearm to obviously adjust himself that the alarm bells start going off.

And to think, it was going so well.

“Phil?”

“What? Oh, Jesus. I’m sorry. Look, I’m going to be honest with you because I feel like we should start our relationship with complete honesty.” He pauses, looks me dead in the eyes, and waits a beat. I’m still stuck back at relationship, so it takes me a second to realize that he’s still talking. “ . . . I don’t even know when it started.”

“When what started? I’m sorry. I spaced out there for a second,” I apologize.

“I can imagine. It’s pretty hot, isn’t it?” He wiggles his eyebrows, and I notice for the first time how perfectly shaped they are.

“What is pretty hot?”

“Tell me please. What color are they?” he practically pants.

“Phil, stick with me, okay? What is hot and what color are you talking about?”

Frustration is getting the best of me, and I can feel my crazy pregnancy hormones kicking in because I’m two seconds away from throwing my burger in his face. Which would be a shame because it really is delicious.