Dirty (9 page)

             
There was that phrase again. Who owned him?
“Everybody does. If we didn’t, we wouldn’t exist. Not to make light of your needs of course, but sometimes it’s okay to accept a little help from friends and lovers.”
Lovers? Why’d she have to say the L word?

             
His brow furrowed and his
thinking
wrinkle appeared across his forehead.
Over-thinking
wrinkle she suspected. She clasped his hands and gave them a shake. “Hey, let’s not overthink this, okay? I want to take you to a nice dinner. No strings, no expectations. Can I just ask you one thing?”

             
His eyes were wide on her. “What?”

             
“Just try not to dismiss what we have because you think it can’t work with your responsibilities.”

             
“But I can’t—”

             
She leaned in and placed a chaste kiss to his lips. “I only said
try.
”

             
He smiled.
Wow
. She hadn’t seen him smile much, but then it grew into full on laughter and wow…oh wow. He was magnificent. His smile could establish world peace. She liked smiles. Usually it was the first thing she noticed in a guy, but he’d not laughed since she’d known him…until now. When he exposed his full-on smile it squared his jaw further and pushed his plump lower lip out—corner to corner his teeth were symmetrical and dazzling. He was sexy as hell.

             
“Okay…I’ll give it a shot.”

             
They agreed on a kiss, and then she drove them to Mon Ami Gabi, her favorite French restaurant.

***

             
The first thing he noticed was how decadent the restaurant was. He couldn’t remember existing in a space that was any fancier than where his old booted feet stood now. Courtney in her blue-green dress and heels looked like she was born from the mortar that pieced the building together. He on the other hand was severely under dressed.

             
But just look at her…she shone like a new penny. God, she was gorgeous. To kiss her was to kiss something that wasn’t of this world. He’d never felt emotion like that. Her dress came to mid thigh and he knew he’d be fighting his eyes to focus on her eyes for the remainder of the night. When she turned to speak with the greeter he got a shot of her extremely shapely derrière and had to lift his jaw from the floor. Courtney. He didn’t even know her last name.
And shouldn’t he know it after he’d manhandled her in the car?

             
He felt a tinge of remorse building beneath the surface. He was angry with his father for putting him in his current position. Oh, he loved his sisters and nothing could change that, but he was twenty-seven and should be free to date Courtney if he wanted to.

             
To her credit she’d been inside his home. She’d seen he didn’t have the money for a proper oven or even refrigerator. They used a mini fridge they’d purchased for forty-five dollars on black Friday. She hadn’t flinched then. In fact, she’d appeared quite content in the home he’d made. She also knew he had no money and worked several odd jobs and she’d accepted him as is. But…there was so much more for her to accept. She didn’t know about his family’s history and she didn’t know that he had full custody of his two sisters.
But what if she did know? What if he brought her home and showed her?

             
He’d been so deep in thought he hadn’t realized the commotion, and now standing before him was the greeter. She held a jacket open in front of him and wore an expectant look on her face.

             
“What do you want me to do with that?”

             
Courtney’s light touch at his elbow and her words in his ear set fire to his spine. “I do apologize, but it seems I’ve made reservations at a restaurant that requires men to wear jackets.”

             
He shot her an incredulous look, but quickly smiled when he saw her wince at him. He reluctantly shrugged into the jacket as the couple behind them waited for access to the greeter girl. To make matters worse, the jacket wouldn’t accommodate his shoulders. “It’s too small.” He looked at the polished woman in black who was already hanging the coat on the hanger.

             
“I have one larger.” She stepped behind her counter and pulled a second jacket down from its place on a hook. As she removed it from the hanger the man in the party of two behind him cleared his throat with urgency.

             
Embarrassed, Sawyer stood to the side. “If you want you can take care of them first.”

             
“Good evening, Senator Jordan.” Greeter girl placed the jacket beneath her arm.

             
Senator.
Perfect! Sawyer rubbed his middle finger across his aching brow. He didn’t know how to express to Courtney how extremely uncomfortable he was standing in this place, underdressed, and under pedigreed. Worst of all he was embarrassing her. 

             
Once the senator had been properly attended to, greeter girl was back, sliding the jacket up Sawyer’s arms. It was enormous. He frowned. Did he really need this stupid jacket just to eat dinner? He must look ridiculous. His eyes sought Courtney’s, and when he found them her baby blues sparkled at him. Her sincere smile calmed his nerves. “It’s perfect.” She laced her arm in his and they followed greeter girl. Sawyer was relieved when she left them in peace, hopeful that was all he’d be seeing of her for the night.

             
No sooner were they seated than an extremely pompous waiter approached their table—derisive frown in tact. His eyes scanned Sawyer, his eyes lifting in question before he turned to eye Courtney who seemed oblivious.

             
Large, thick and red leather-bound menus with beige pages were placed delicately in their hands as if they’d been dusted in gold. The apprehension as the waiter lowered him the menu said he thought he’d get it dirty with his greasy paws. It had Sawyer wondering where he could get some axle grease this time of night.

             
With one hand behind his back he said, “My name is Grant, I’ll be your waiter tonight.”

             
“What kind of name is
Grant
for a French waiter?” Sawyer mumbled under his breath.

             
Two sets of curious eyes landed on him. He cleared his throat. “Thank you, Grant.” Courtney giggled.

             
He turned to Courtney who he seemed to think was in charge. “Shall I send over the sommelier?”

             
“That’d be great.” She smiled and opened her menu, dismissing Grant, and Sawyer loved her all the more for it.

             
When he opened his menu his stomach dropped to the floor. It was in French, though the prices were in dollars. There was no way in hell he’d have her paying for his meal. The prices were outrageous. He’d decided, in true southern fashion and custom, that he’d be paying the bill, but there was no way he could. He frowned as he desperately tried to make sense of the menu but couldn’t. Why did it have to be in French? He’d taken Latin in school. Was told he was great with languages and Mrs. Foster had demanded he attend UIL. He’d made it all the way to state, even lettered in the damn language. A lot of good it did him now.

             
“Sawyer.” Her hand rested over his. He felt the sweat beading around his hairline.

             
“Hmm?”

             
“You’re my guest. I invited you.”

             
Her smile cut his tension like a knife through soft butter and he was able to reciprocate.

             
“Order whatever you like.”

             
“I can’t understand the French menu.”

             
“Oh.” Her brows shot up. “Right. How about steak and fries? That’s what I’m going to get.”

             
They actually have that here?
“Sounds perfect.”

             
“Great.” She snapped the menu closed and set it on the table. He followed suit.

             
He liked this girl. Sure, he could tell she’d been reared with privilege, but the one thing she wasn’t was portentous.

             
The knowledgeable sommelier went through the ostentatious list of French wines they housed, and then asked if they cared to hear the list of stocked domestics. His eyes darted between them, awaiting an answer until he finally fixed his gaze on Sawyer.

             
Sawyer’s leg began to shake, his heel pressing into the ground and popping his right leg back up as if on a springboard. “Um…” The leg shaking became so vigorous that it disturbed the table, almost knocking over their water glasses. He pressed his hand hard into his knee to stop the nervous side effect.

             
“Actually, we’re having steak and fries. What beer do you recommend?” Courtney asked.

             
“Beer?” He looked completely appalled.

             
“Yeah,” Courtney smiled brightly at him. “Steak and fries night is lovely when paired with a beer.”

             
“You may speak to your waiter about ordering beer.”

             
“Right! Sorry to have disturbed you from your perch.” She waved her hand at him, shooing him away.

             
Sawyer laughed and she joined him. She was so damned cute, and not easily intimidated. All laughter abated when she placed their order in French and it had him growing hard beneath the table.

             
Sexual tension loomed like a thick cloud as they sat across from one another, eyes raging. He cleared his throat, hoping his mind would follow. “I realized when we were in the car that I don’t even know your last name.”

             
“Oh, yeah…um…Jones.”

             
Courtney Jones. Hmm, that almost didn’t seem exotic enough for the platinum, blue-eyed beauty who sat across from him. He’d like to call her Court.

             
“Do you mind me asking your age?”

             
“You’re not supposed to ask a lady her age.”

             
“So yes.”

             
“Yes.” She sipped her water, pressing her lips together before sliding her tongue across them to gather the stray drops. He’d like to be those drops. “I’m twenty-five.”

             
“That’s a good age. It suits you.”

             
“Thanks.”

             
“So you’re twenty-five and live at home.”

             
“I do. How old are you?”

             
“Twenty-seven.” He sipped his water. “Most twenty-somethings want out of the house, and you are in real estate so I’m curious…why do you stay at home?”

             
Her heartwarming smile had his thoughts running wild. He dreamed of an apron-clad mother greeting her children with a homemade apple pie, and a father ready to play catch with his children as soon as he returned from a day’s work.

             
“I guess I’m a little scared it’ll be too quiet living alone. With three older brothers and a younger sister there are always shenanigans about. Until recently my youngest two brothers lived at home. I love my father. I love my mom too of course, but I’m a daddy’s girl. He had a heart scare a few years ago and retired. If I ever was going to move out it would have been after college, but with his health scare there was no way I was going to leave.”

             
“How’s he doing now?”

             
“He’s completely healed. Pacemaker was all he needed. He’s as cantankerous as ever.” She giggled. “I’ve been thinking it may be time to give living on my own a try, but I think I’d be a little sad—walking 
into a dark home
 after work with no noise and no one running amuck. I don’t know how I’d manage, but I know I can’t live at home forever.”

             
“I don’t know about that. I know a guy who’s forty and lives in his mother’s basement.”

             
She grimaced. “I draw the line at basement living. What about you? How long have you been on your own?”

             
Deep in thoughts that ghosted in from the past, he scratched his head with his index finger. “A while.”

             
Slamming her water glass down, her eyes widened and her jaw dropped. She was looking just past him. Once she recovered, the look of pain overcame her shocked demeanor. “Fuck,” she mumbled.

             
Sawyer turned to see what had her so upset. A tall, slim guy in a suit approached. His arm was draped suggestively around a busty woman who flaunted her endowment with a plunging neckline. Sawyer thought the guy looked like a politician in his expensive gray suit. He approached, his eyes burning into Courtney as he pulled the dark-haired woman at his side closer to his body, his hand lowering to her hip.