The Dating Plan(35)
“Vegas,” Liam said firmly. “I can’t do city hall, even for a fake wedding. It’s not me. If I’m spending a small fortune on an outfit and I’m carrying a big-ass sword, I want to get married somewhere it will be appreciated. And I want an Elvis.”
“An Elvis?” she repeated.
“He’ll be in full costume, and after he says ‘You may kiss the bride,’ he’ll break out his guitar and sing ‘A Big Hunk o’ Love.’” He sighed and gazed into the distance. “Men have wedding fantasies, too.”
Daisy’s eyes widened. “Seriously?”
“No.” He fought back his laughter. Sometimes Daisy was so literal, it was almost too easy to wind her up. “I think ‘Just Pretend’ or ‘Return to Sender’ might be more appropriate.”
Daisy stared at him, her expression blank, but he knew what was going on behind those narrowed eyes. She was amused, but afraid to show it.
“‘Heartbreak Hotel’?” He was determined to make her smile. “‘Crying in the Chapel’? ‘Jailhouse Rock’?” He pushed a little harder. “Or how about ‘Hard Headed Woman’?”
“‘Don’t Be Cruel.’” Her lips quivering at the corners, Daisy picked up her phone and tapped on the screen. “One Vegas wedding plus one Elvis. Song: TBA. I’ll send you the final spreadsheet.”
“Your cold, detached, and calculating approach to dating is a huge turn on,” Liam said dryly. “You’re lucky we’re in a public place. I can barely contain myself.”
Their food arrived and Daisy tucked in to her dosas. Liam studied his plate and frowned at the unfamiliar presentation. “Is this—”
“Pork vindaloo. Extra hot. Just the way you wanted it.”
Liam scooped up a mouthful of pork, taking a moment to savor the rich, delicate flavors on his tongue.
“Delicious,” he said. “And not too hot at all. I might even ask for some extra cayenne.”
Daisy stared at him, her lips quivering at the corners. “Wait for it . . .”
Liam lifted his fork for another bite, but even after the warning, he was totally unprepared for the flaming inferno in his mouth.
He gasped, sweat beading on his forehead, pain screaming across his tongue. “Water!”
“Water won’t help you.” Daisy pushed her raita across the table, clearly trying to contain her laughter. “You need yogurt.”
Liam grabbed the bowl and gulped down the yogurt in frantic slurps.
“It’s a dip. Not a drink.” Laughing now, she snapped a picture of him. “How’s the asbestos tongue now?”
“What the fuck was that?” He was at once embarrassed and angry with himself for his stubborn pride.
“Extra hot. Just the way you ordered it. Instead of being so stubborn, you should listen to people who know what they’re talking about. It doesn’t make you less of a man.”
“That’s not what my father thought,” he said, half to himself. His father never took advice if he thought he could do something himself, whether it was filing false tax returns with the IRS, forging applications for disability benefits, or screwing investors out of their hard-earned cash.
His father also never thought his youngest son was his own flesh and blood. Liam was worthless, stupid, no good, and most definitely less of a man.
He pushed his plate away and soothed his tongue with the remaining spoons of raita. What the hell was wrong with him? He didn’t think about the past, and he never talked about his father. “I don’t need advice,” he said abruptly.
It had taken him a long time to move past his father’s emotional abuse, to learn to disregard people’s opinions and rely only on himself, to actually feel the confidence he projected to the outside world. But sitting here in front of the smartest, prettiest, sexiest woman he’d ever known—a woman he would never be worthy of having except in a world of pretend dates and fake marriages—he wasn’t feeling it at all.
Daisy paused mid bite and frowned. “I just didn’t want you to burn your mouth.”
“I know what I want,” he snapped. “And I wanted it like that.”
Her mouth firmed into a straight line and she shrugged. “Okay.”
They ate in uncomfortable silence for the next few minutes. Liam mentally cursed himself, and his father, and the chef who had made the dish so spicy he had needed to be warned.
“I’m an ass,” he said finally.
Daisy looked up, a pained expression on her face. “I won’t disagree with you.”
“I’m sorry.”
“Apology accepted,” she said stiffly.
“My dad passed away a few years ago, but just thinking about him . . .” He hesitated, not wanting to wind himself up again, but desperately needing to clear the air. “Triggers me.”
Her face softened. “I can’t even imagine how hard it must be. I know a little about what he was like.”
Of course she did. She’d been there when his mom had brought him over to her house, his arm in a cast, his face swollen from the worst beating he’d ever had. He’d seen her on the stairs while their parents talked, her bare feet peeking out of her pink nightdress, a stuffed rabbit in her arms. He’d found the rabbit on his bed when her father had taken him up to Sanjay’s room, and it had been a great comfort in the darkest hours of the night.