Dirty Deeds (Mechanics of Love #3)(20)
Spencer had spent way too much time on his laptop looking for a place to take Alex. He hadn’t wanted to take her to Bellini’s, because he’d wanted to take her someplace new. “Have you been here before?” he asked as he shut off his car.
She shook her head but didn’t look at him.
“Okay, so they have a beer sampler. I thought you might like that. And this appetizer apparently is very popular. A fried onion thing that supposedly looks like a flower? Very American, I’d say. And their burgers are supposed to be quite delicious. And I . . . ” His voice trailed off as Alex’s face tightened by the minute.
He’d thought this place was perfect. He wanted Alex to be somewhere she was comfortable and so he’d stayed away from uptight, posh places. He thought a pub with beers and burgers would be ideal for Alex.
Although he hadn’t anticipated showing up at her house and her wearing that dress either.
He . . . might have miscalculated.
But there was nothing for it now. So he got out of the car, and when he walked to her side, she’d already stepped out and was smoothing her dress over her thighs. When she looked up, her eyes seemed a little wet. “Alex?”
She blew out a breath and shook her head, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Yes?”
“Are you okay?”
“Fine. Why?”
He didn’t know. He didn’t know at all.
She began to walk toward the front door, and he followed, wishing they were back in Cal’s yard playing washers, because then Alex had been happy. Now? Not so much. He didn’t know how to fix that, to put a smile on her face. How had this gone so wrong in such a short time?
This is why he didn’t date. Because apparently he was awful at it.
Bomer’s was a large brick building with a massive red neon sign. Spencer mused, as Alex pushed open the door in front of him, that this restaurant could probably be seen from space.
There were several couples sitting on benches along the wall near the hostess station. Spencer walked up to the desk and smiled politely at the pretty teenager. “Uh, hello. I have a reservation for two. Spencer.”
“It’ll be fifteen minutes,” the girl said, smacking her gum.
“I’m sorry?” Spencer asked. “But I have a reservation.”
“Yeah, I know. Sorry. Little bit of a wait.”
He turned to Alex, who stared at him with a blank look on her face. “Um, they said it’ll just be a minute.”
“Fifteen,” she said.
“Well, yes, fifteen.”
Her jaw clenched and then she turned around, sitting down at an empty space on the bench. Spencer ducked his head and took a seat beside her.
The couples talked around them, some holding hands. Alex sat stiffly, flexing her feet in her heels, drumming her fingers where they gripped the pleather seat.
“I heard they have great burgers,” Spencer said.
Alex shifted her eyes in his direction, then resumed staring into space in front of her.
“Are you . . . did I do something wrong?” He didn’t want to ask, but so far, this date was torture.
Alex shook her head and looked down at the floor. “No,” she whispered.
“You sure?”
“Yep.” She popped the p, and he leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and hoping like hell they were seated soon.
A rumbling sound came from outside and necks craned toward the clouds beginning to roll in. Spencer glanced at the weather app on his phone. “Looks like it’s going to storm.”
A small smile crossed Alex’s face. “I love storms.”
“Where I’m from, it rained more than stormed,” he said.
She turned to him, light in her eyes for the first time since he’d picked her up. “Really? Summer storms are the best. When it’s so humid all day, you can’t even bear to be outside, but then right around dinnertime, the storm comes in and the sky opens up and it pours.” Her gaze returned to the window. “Fall storms are great too. Looks like it’s gonna be a good one.”
Five minutes later, the hostess called his name. She led them to a booth in the corner and Alex slid in one side as Spencer took his seat across from her.
The menus were almost as large as the table, laminated until shiny and smelling faintly of grease.
The pictures showed juicy burgers and massive drinks and gooey desserts. Spencer scanned the menu for something that wasn’t going to give him an instant heart attack.
When the waitress came, Alex ordered a shot and a beer. Spencer stared at her, but she didn’t meet his gaze. He ordered a pint.
When the drinks came, Alex downed the shot and then gulped half of her beer.
“Better?” Spencer asked.
Alex shifted in her seat and tugged at something in her dress. She took a deep breath and exhaled with her mouth shaped in an O. Finally, she met his eyes. “Why’d you bring me here?”
Spencer took a swallow of his beer and set it down on the table gently. “What do you mean?”
She gestured around them. “Why here? Why not somewhere else?”
Irritation crept up his spine. “What do you mean? Where’d you want to go? Someplace with a Michelin star?”
She stared at him, eyes wide, nostrils flared. Through gritted teeth, she asked, “What’s a Michelin star?”
“It’s a . . . ” He waved his hand. “A culinary award. Given to top restaurants.”
“And what? That would be ridiculous to take me to a place like that?”
“Well, yes!” Spencer said, knowing his voice was rising but unable to stop it. Why was she being so difficult? “I mean, you’re you!”
Alex jolted back into her seat as if she’d been slapped, a flush of red creeping over her chest, up her neck, and into her face.
Spencer replayed the conversation, what he said. “Wait, I didn’t mean—”
Alex swallowed thickly. “I think that’s exactly what you meant.” She threw her napkin on the table, slid out of the booth, and walked out.
“Bloody hell,” Spencer muttered, throwing cash on the table to cover their drinks and following her through the restaurant. By the time she burst out the front door in a flash of purple, Spencer at her heels, the sky had unleashed hell.
Fat raindrops fell on Spencer’s head, immediately soaking his hair and shirt. “Alex, what the hell?” he yelled, trying to cover his head, but giving up when his arms were no match for the torrential downpour. Alex was stomping ahead of him toward the car, wobbly on her heels, and he was worried she’d twist an ankle. “Will you slow the hell down and tell me what the fuck is wrong?”
She whirled around, fists clenched at her sides, long hair dripping, dress plastered to her body like a second skin. She hopped on one foot as she pulled off a shoe and hurled it at him. He dodged that one, but the other one hit him in the thigh when she threw it with a frustrated growl. “What the fuck, woman?”
“I can’t believe . . . ” She growled again. “I can’t believe I did this.” She gestured to her body. “I spent an hour and a half getting ready. Do you even know the last time I spent an hour and a half getting ready for anything?”
Spencer stood, staring at her as she hollered at him in the rain. He shook his head.
“Never!” she yelled. “I’ve never spent that much time putting on makeup and doing my hair and picking out a stupid fucking dress!” She reached up and cupped her breasts, shifted the dress over them, and tugged on the fabric. “Ugh. I hate this dress. I hate those fucking shoes that hurt my feet. And I hate, I hate, that I took all this time trying to impress you. To show you that I can be a fucking lady, worthy of . . . I don’t know . . . being on your arm. And instead, you bring me here. Because that’s all I’m worth, right? A beer and a burger?” She snorted. “The thing is, you’re not wrong. That is all I’m worth. Those burgers looked goddamn delicious. I’m so fucking angry at myself that I expected something different. That, for once in my life I expected something more.”
She shook her head, her shoulders slumping, as she seemed to run out of steam. She looked so tiny without her heels, shaking in the rain as it continued to pour buckets on their heads.
He’d done that. Him. He’d taken the light of his sprite’s eyes. In an attempt to make her feel comfortable, he’d done the exact opposite.
He ran his hand over his hair and looked up at the sky. “I’m an arsehole.”
“No—”
“Yes. Yes, I am, Alex. Fuck, I’m so sorry, I . . . ”
She was watching him, her top teeth sawing into her bottom lip. He held up his keys and gestured to his car. “How about we get out of this rain and talk?”
Alex looked down at herself and wiggled her feet in the puddle she stood in. “But we’re wet—”
“I don’t care,” he said. “I don’t care one bit. I want to talk to you. Will you let me explain? Please?”
She took a deep breath. “Okay.”
Spencer let out a breath. “Great.” He took her hand and led her to his car.
Chapter Ten
ALEX CURLED HER prune-y toes into the carpeted floor of Spencer’s Mercedes, wrapped her arms around herself, and shivered.
Spencer reached into the backseat and tugged some kind of jacket around her shoulders. She gripped it and looked up at him through strands of wet hair. “Thanks.”