“He’s a slippery one, but I think that’s genetic,” Nick said, shaking his head. “But we will get him, Cane. I promise you that.”
JADA
“This looks great,” Cane said, flashing the waitress a brilliant smile. He looked devastatingly handsome in a pair of dark dress pants and a blue dress shirt, sleeves rolled up. “Thank you.”
The waitress flushed and glanced quickly at me as if to apologize for being charmed by my man. I smiled back at her, telling her it was okay. I understood. Females just didn’t have a chance around him.
My father always said you could tell someone’s true nature by how they treated waiters and bellboys. If that was true, Cane was a keeper.
The only problem with that was that he wasn’t around much lately to keep.
Maybe I just got used to being with him so much …
Since the night he canceled our dinner plans, he had been very hit or miss. Some days I would see him as he crawled into bed with me, some days I would just get a phone call at some point in the day, and even when he was with me, he seemed so preoccupied. So distant.
“It’s just work, beautiful girl,” he’d say when I asked him what was going on. But the parallels between this behavior and Decker’s were more aligned than even I cared to admit: a busier work schedule, an evasive attitude, spontaneous calls that make him leave, and a preoccupation when he was with me that worried me more than anything.
“This is almost too pretty to eat,” I said, appreciating the pasta dish set in front of me. It was a gorgeous mixture of colors and textures and smelled divine, like oregano and garlic and Italian goodness. “Almost,” I laughed. “Have you been here before?”
I looked around the Italian restaurant. It was really busy. Always a sign of a good business.
“Yeah, I come here sometimes,” he said. “I come here for lunch a lot, actually. I hate fast food.”
I thought back, scanning through my memories, trying to think of him eating something from a paper bag. “I don’t think I have ever seen you eat fast food, come to think of it.”
“I never do. You don’t know what is in it or who made it.”
“You don’t know that here, either,” I pointed out, sticking a forkful of pasta into my mouth.
He thought for a moment. “That’s true on some level, I suppose. But the food here looks like real food. Look at the chicken in your pasta. That’s easily identifiable as a piece of chicken.”
“Just stop talking now because sometimes I crave a fast food burger.”
He shook his head as he cut into his steak. “There are some things I will never understand about you.” He raised his eyebrows as he slid a piece of meat between his lips.
“Oh, really? Like what?”
“Like why your phone is always almost dead. Why you listen to shit music. Why you eat food that isn’t even food.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I wrapped pasta around my fork and took another bite. It was better than it even smelled. The flavors of the tomatoes and mozzarella married perfectly inside my mouth. I closed my eyes and smiled.
“You are ridiculous,” Cane laughed, watching me. “I don’t know what I even see in you,” he winked.
“Then you must be blind!” I gave him a sideways glance. “You are lucky I put up with you!”
Cane cut another piece of steak, his face losing the playfulness. He studied his plate intently, pressing his lips into a thin line. “There’s a lot of truth to that.”
“This place reminds me of what I think Rome would be like.” I looked around the room, trying to change the conversation. “I’ve always wanted to go there. So much history. So much food.”
His eyes lit up. He wiped his mouth with a linen napkin. “Rome? That’s where you would go if you could go anywhere in the world?”
I nodded. “Yeah, I think so. Maybe Australia. I hear Bondi Beach is pretty amazing.”
“I’ve never heard of it, but I’ll be sure to Google that when I get home.” The corner of his mouth upturned and I felt relieved.
I sat back in my chair, letting my foot trail up the inside of his leg. “If you could go anywhere, where would you go?”
He looked at me thoughtfully for a moment. “Macchu Picchu,” he said simply.
“Yeah, that would be amazing,” I said dreamily. “What’s your favorite color?”
He laughed. “What is this? Twenty questions?”
“I don’t know. I just want to know the little things about you.” I shrugged. “We never seem to get around to those.”
“Well, it used to be blue, I guess, until I saw you in that orange dress.”