Page 5 of Inked Heart
I fiddle with the edge of my napkin, trying to keep my tone calm.“They’re good people.”
“I’m not saying they’re not,” he replies quickly.“I’m just saying ...maybe you should think about the image you’re putting out there.”
My image.Right.Because apparently bringing cupcakes to friends is a public relations crisis.
I glance down at my outfit without thinking.A simple sundress and sandals.Nothing flashy but certainly nothing embarrassing.
Still...That familiar feeling creeps in.The one that whispers maybe he’s right.Maybe I could try a little harder.Maybe I could be a little better.
Our waitress appears with our food before the silence can stretch any longer.
“Chicken Alfredo for you,” she says, placing the plate in front of me.“And the ribeye for you, sir.”
Emette nods, already reaching for his steak knife.“Thanks.”
The waitress gives us both a friendly smile before moving on to the next table.For a few minutes we eat in silence.I try to focus on the pasta.It’s creamy and rich, exactly the way I like it.But the knot in my stomach makes it hard to enjoy.
“You should wear your hair straight more often,” Emette says suddenly.
I look up.“What?”
He gestures vaguely toward my head.“It looks more polished that way.”
I blink.“My hairisstraight.”
“No, I mean like actually straight.”He makes a motion with his hand like he’s flattening something.“Like when you use that iron thing.”
The straightener.“Oh.”I twirl a strand of hair between my fingers.“I didn’t think it mattered.”
“It does,” he says.
I nod slowly.“Okay.”
Because arguing feels exhausting.
Emette cuts into his steak.“You’re not still thinking about going to that baking class thing, are you?”
My heart sinks.“It’s just a weekend workshop,” I say.“Nothing serious.”
“You don’t need it.”
“I thought it might be fun.”
He shrugs.“It’s a waste of money.”
Fun.Apparently fun is also a problem.I push my pasta around my plate.
Across the room, the restaurant door opens and a cool breeze slips inside along with the sound of traffic from the street.I glance up automatically and immediately wish I hadn’t.Because Damien Grey just walked in.
He pauses near the host stand, running a hand through his hair as he looks around the restaurant.
Even from across the room I can see the faint crease between his brows, like he’s already doing mental math.Which, honestly?He probably is.
Damien always looks a little out of place anywhere that isn’t behind a desk or surrounded by spreadsheets.But there’s something about him tonight.
He is wearing dark jeans and a fitted black t-shirt.His glasses perched on his nose.And he looks ...good.Really good.
My stomach does a weird little flip right then as he notices me.Our eyes meet for half a second, just long enough for recognition to spark, and he lifts his hand slightly in a casual greeting.
