Beauty from Pain (Beauty, #1)(8)

She smiles and I find myself wanting to know all the secrets she hides behind it. “Very. I’m not one of those girls who’s scared to eat in front of a date. I hope you don’t mind that.”

“Not at all.”

She’s quiet as she reads the wine list and our server arrives to take our drink order. “I’ll have a Sauvignon Blanc.”

She lifts her eyes from the list. “I have no idea how to order wine. I’ll have what you’re having.”

“Two Sauvignon Blancs.”

She holds the menu in front of her and I can’t see her face. She’s studying it like there could be an exam later. “I don’t know what I want. Everything looks good.”

“My business associate recommended anything seafood.”

A moment later she places the menu on the table. “Seafood sounds good. I’ll have the stuffed prawns.”

After the server brings the wine and takes our order, we continue our safe, generic conversation. “How did your friend’s vintages fare last night?”

“Ben did well, but I never expected anything less. Wine is his family’s business.”

I remember the waitress mentioning that. I believe she said he was from California. “I understand that. You’re much more passionate about it when it’s your livelihood.”

“You say that like you know from experience.” She’s a sharp one.

“I do. I’m employed in the wine-making business as well.” It’s a half-truth since I neglect to tell her I own a large number of the wineries across South Australia and New Zealand.

She smiles and I see her make the connection. “So that’s why you were at the vintage dinner last night?”

“Yes. My employer donates money to the wine program, so he is given an automatic invitation to the event. I was sent in his place as a representative.”

We talk about nothing in particular and I feel the mood of our conversation shift when we finish eating. “I’ve spent the last hour having dinner with you and you still haven’t told me your name. Maybe it’s an Australian thing, but where I come from, that is one of the first things you tell someone. Is there a reason you haven’t told me?”

I’m interested in picking her brain, hearing her possible explanation. “Why do you think that could be?”

She studies my face and for the first time I notice her unusual eye color. I thought they were brown, but now I see I was only half-right. They’re lighter, more like caramel than chocolate. And her hair isn’t a single shade of brown; it’s full of honey-colored streaks.

Her back stiffens. “I think you’re married with a wife and two-point-five kids waiting for you to come home.”

I almost forget her question, I’m so caught up in watching the windows to her soul. I see something there, but I can’t put my finger on what it is.

I hold up my empty left hand and point to where a wedding band would be if I had one. I smile because the thought of me being married is such a polar opposite from the truth. “No wife. No two-point-five kids.”

She sits back in her chair and doesn’t appear as though she’s buying what I’m selling. “The lack of a wedding band doesn’t prove anything.”

“I am secretive, but it has nothing to do with being married.”

Our server returns to remove our dishes and we fall silent until he walks away. “Why are you secretive?”

“For lack of a better answer, it’s just how I am.”

She frowns. “Well, that explains everything.”

These are dangerous waters I’m treading. This girl is different from the others. If I don’t handle her the right way, she’ll run. Of this, I’m certain. “You and I will both be in Wagga Wagga for the next three months. I’d really like to see you while we’re here.”

“Would I finally get to know your name?” She’s laughing but has no idea that withholding real names is my number-one stipulation for dating.

Hell! She’s got me off my game and feeling like I’ve never done this before.

I draw a breath to clear my head before I begin. “My life is complicated for reasons I won’t discuss. When it comes to dating, I need it to be simple and undemanding. Disclosing my identity complicates things, so you wouldn’t know my real name.”

“You’re not joking.”

I can’t read her reaction. I have no idea if she’s on board or freaking out. “When the three months is over, so are we. I’ll move on and you will too. Because you won’t know my name or any identifying information about me, you’ll have no way to contact me. Ever.”

This face I can read, and it’s full of confusion. “But why?”

I have reasons, but I won’t explain them. “Because that’s the way I need things to be.”

She’s clearly pissed off as evidenced by the scowl on her face. “If you never wanted to hear from me again, that wouldn’t be a problem on my end, Jack.”

I smile because she has no idea she just used my real name. “You’d have the same courtesy. You don’t have to tell me your real name and you choose how much or how little you want to tell me about yourself.”

She puts her elbows on the table and leans forward. “You’re crazy as hell, but you already know that, right?”