Page 42 of The Deadbeat DILF
“Of course I did,” Robert said. He’d dressed up tonight, wearing a button-down shirt that hugged his chest and shoulders. “You’ve been working nonstop on it for the past few weeks.”
I smiled, shyly brushing my hair away from my face. That’s when I caught an older couple eyeing us, frowning.
I knew what they were thinking. Robert was the sexiest man I knew, but it was obvious he was almost two decades older than me. People saw the age gap between us and probably thought Iwas some sort of gold digger. They weren’t exactly subtle about their disapproval.
I focused on Robert. I couldn’t let strangers bring down my mood. “You’ve been working hard too,” I said.
He shrugged. “It’s just another job for me. I’m not climbing a ladder like you.”
I tilted my head. “You’re not aiming for a promotion?”
He swirled the wine around in his glass, thinking. “When I started my company, I was already on top. I was the boss—well, along with Noel, the friend I founded the company with.”
“You made the company with a friend?”
He nodded. “Yeah. We went way back. Grew up together, worked for other construction companies, then decided we could do it ourselves. As I was saying… being a boss was great, but it’s a lot of work. After I left the company, I realized I’d rather just clock in and out rather than stress out about a business every waking hour.” He let out a self-deprecating chuckle. “I know this makes me sound unambitious.”
I shook my head. “No, I understand where you’re coming from. My friend Alison runs her own business, and for so many years, she’s been working herself into the ground. She’s better about work-life balance now, though.”
“Yeah? What changed?”
I smiled. “She fell in love with her personal assistant.”
Robert’s eyes widened. “Really?”
I nodded. “Yeah. They’re still together. I’ll introduce you to them sometime.” I returned to the topic at hand. “So are you and Noel still friends?”
His gaze skittered away. “No. Not exactly.” His gaze caught on something over my shoulder. “Looks like our food’s arriving.”
Part of me wanted to keep talking. There was so much about Robert I still didn’t know, and I wanted to learn more. He’d seen so many ugly sides of me—my crazy family, me breaking downin tears. Now that I thought about it, I didn’t know much about him beyond his job and some vague details about his divorce and family.
But as soon as the food appeared on the table—perfectly seared ribeyes with sautéed shrimp on the side—I let the topic go. The smell of the food alone made my stomach ache with hunger.
As soon as I cut into my medium-rare steak and took a bite, I had to suppress a moan. “Wow. It’s like it melts in my mouth.”
“Oh, yeah. Now, that’s a steak,” Robert agreed, lifting his eyebrows, as impressed by the taste as I was.
We didn’t speak for a few minutes, too wrapped up in our meals and how good everything tasted. The steak was the best I’d ever had, and the shrimp were buttery and garlicky too.
“We should go out to dinner more often,” Robert told me as he took a break from his steak to drink his wine.
“Tired of cooking?” I teased him.
“I like cooking for you, but I want to wine and dine you too.” His smile faded, replaced with a serious, almost nervous look. “I’ve been meaning to ask… I think we should define what this is.” He gestured between us.
My breath hitched. We hadn’t put a label on what we were doing yet.
That was part of the reason I hadn’t told my friends about the latest development between Robert and I. Usually, I told Alison and Emilia everything, but I was waiting until I could give them solid news. It’d be easier to say “I have a boyfriend” rather than “so remember that hot older guy I’m living with? We’re sleeping together and kissing and going out together, but we haven’t put a label on it yet.”
I wanted to define us. What were we? Roommates with benefits? Friends who had sex?
No. It was more than that. Sure, the sex was incredible, but I felt more for Robert than base lust. I could trust him. I felt safe around him. I had real feelings for him, deep feelings.
He cleared his throat. “I love spending time with you, Brooke. I love holding your hand in public.” He reached for my hand on the table. “I want—”
“Dad?” A voice interrupted us.
We both jolted and looked up to see the man standing next to the table, staring at our joined hands with horror.
