The Lineup(22)

“So you’re just like Knox. Will keep wearing you down until you give in.”

“Glad you’re seeing it now, saving me the hassle of having to chip away at that cold exterior of yours.” I whisper and say, “P.S. I knew you wouldn’t call security on me.”

She picks up her burger and before taking a big bite, she says, “Twelve-year-old girls say P.S. and security is only a quick phone call away. Don’t test me.”

“Does that mean we’re on a date?”

She squints in mocked anger. “It means I’m hungry, and I can only have this burger in front of me untouched for so long.”

“Please tell me you’re about to own that piece of meat.”

Slyly, she glances at me and says, “I own every piece of meat that’s put in front of me.”

Good.

Fuck.

My dick just twitched. Not sure if it was out of excitement or pure terror, but I guess there’s only one way to find out.





Have you ever eaten a meal by yourself? The peaceful silence, the thought-provoking conversations you have in your head, the inside jokes you tell yourself. A winning experience every person should have at least once.

But when you have it, make sure you’re actually alone, not sitting across from a burger-annihilating woman with a pinch in her brow and a snarl in her lip.

First, I’d like to preface what I’m about to say with this: I find it super sexy when a woman eats in front of a man. I love it when they’re not embarrassed and just act themselves. Now, don’t kill me when I say, watching Dottie Domico take down her burger is one of the most terrifying things I’ve ever experienced.

I don’t think she stopped to take a breath.

It was as if her burger were a pair of ripe tits and she motorboated them until there was nothing left. At one point, I looked up to see her cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk, ketchup hanging off her chin, chomping down like she had one minute left to eat the whole thing.

I’ve never seen anything like it.

It’s clearly why we sat there in silence the whole time, not a word passing between us. Every time I went to ask her a question, it was as if she had a sixth sense—knowing exactly when I was going to speak—and she shoved another big bite in her mouth, followed by a fry chaser.

After my fifth attempt to say something, I stopped trying for the mere chance that if she kept going at the rate she was, she could die from asphyxiation by burger meat.

So instead, I sat there, ate my burger at a normal human rate, and tried to think of things to talk about after we were done with our meal.

Because I’m a good guy, I feel this need to make right on this date, to really give her the full experience, even if she accidentally donated to my charity. Which, can we pause for a second and talk about that? A little bit of a gut check happened when she claimed to want to donate to something else. That kind of realization never feels good, but what I did find interesting is somehow she was looking at my fundraiser, especially if Lindsay and Emory sent it, so there was some interest there. Who knows if it was interest in me or interest in my charity. Either way, I’m still in the picture.

Interest is all I need. If there was no interest, I’d probably think of an escape route, but something tells me there’s more to Dottie. It’s like I’ve seen the incredible, fearsome, and fucking amazing surface . . . her fa?ade. What she gives to those she doesn’t yet trust. But she’s Emory’s best friend, so I know she must be good people. I want to know the next level. Who is she away from her desk? Who is she when she’s not a bigwig of a major company? And why hasn’t she asked anything about me? I’m still confused how we didn’t know each other in college. And I’m extremely curious why she denied four times that she had a crush on me. That little tidbit has been filed away in the I’ll explore that later box. Right now, I’m determined to find the friend. The girl I’m sure I’ll like.

Plus, I’m that guy who needs everyone to like them. It’s why I cook for my teammates. I want them to know I can nourish them, that I’m the key to pleasing their taste buds. It’s general knowledge that chefs are always loved the most in the group of friends, because who doesn’t want to be fed properly?

Dottie is putting up a front, acting like she doesn’t like me, like she doesn’t want me near her, but I’m going to peel back that defensive layer and let her true personality shine.

She’ll want to be friends by the end of this night, I just know it.

“Enjoy your burger?” From the back of her throat, she burps, the sound muffled by her closed mouth but I still heard it, so I say, “I’m going to take that as a yes.”

She presses her napkin to her mouth, her cheeks turning a light shade of pink. “It was fine.”

“Fine?” I ask, unable to control myself. “No one takes a burger down like you just did if it was only fine.”

Her cheeks flush even more. It’s interesting that a strong, put-together woman who doesn’t care to shred an ounce of emotion can actually blush. Maybe there’s a living being inside her after all.

“You know, I wasn’t judging the way you ate one fry at a time, your pinky finger reaching to the sky, so why don’t you lay off the way I eat a burger?”

“Oh, so you were paying attention to me. Huh, I thought you were just trying to tongue your burger the whole time. I almost put a do not disturb sign on your office door.”