Chase Me (Broke and Beautiful #1)(19)

“If I can laugh about it, so can you,” she said seriously.

He considered her a moment, then nodded stiffly.

She couldn’t leave things awkward. It would bother her until she saw him again. Why? Why did he drag these foreign reactions from her? Any other day, she’d have already blown this joint and grabbed a falafel from the food cart she’d seen outside. Giving in to her urge, she leaned in and kissed the underside of his chin. “See you Saturday, Louis. Think about me.”

“Try and stop me.”

Somehow she managed to hide her smile until the elevator doors slid shut.





Chapter 7



“EAT. EAT!"

Louis felt his stomach pitch as Mrs. Ravanides dropped a third portion of spinach pie onto his plate. Like most guys in their midtwenties, he ate food like it might disappear, but if he packed away one more bite of Greek cuisine, he would keel over. If it incurred the wrath of his spatula-wielding dinner host, so be it. He wanted to live to see Saturday, dammit.

The reminder of Saturday led to a memory of Roxy sitting on his desk, hungry because she’d skipped breakfast.

With an inward curse, he picked up his fork and took another bite.

Roxy. He couldn’t keep her in one place longer than ten minutes, yet she’d become his biggest distraction. If her strategy was to drive him crazy so he’d be a more entertaining date tomorrow night, it was working. At this rate, he’d probably try everything from balloon animals to poetry readings to get her to sit still for an hour. He wanted to look at her face. Wanted to make her laugh. And for chrisssakes, he wanted to take her home.

What they’d done in the hallway outside his future brother-in-law’s apartment . . . even with two helpings of spanakopita in his stomach, he still felt a wave of need. Pulse-pounding, sweaty, unquenchable need to have her underneath him. Not a comfortable feeling when two elderly faces are smiling back at you from across the table, remarking on what a good eater you are.

He’d accepted his pro bono client’s dinner invitation in hopes of taking his mind off the elusive Roxy for a few hours. Not to mention the fact that the man’s wife had come to his office and refused to take no for an answer, practically dragging him out the door by his tie. At first, he’d enjoyed himself. He’d sat on their plastic-covered couch and looked at old photos of their kids. Listened to them tell the story of their emigration to America thirty years earlier, the way their convenience store had played such a huge part in their success in New York City. They didn’t take what they had for granted, and Louis was fascinated by that. He’d come from a world where taking what you had for granted was a given. The norm. His father probably wouldn’t even step foot in their tiny shop for fear he’d get dust on his wingtips, but to them, it meant the world.

Louis had always wished for something like that. Something that didn’t come easy. Something that required work as opposed to money. When you had everything handed to you from such a young age—summer vacations, clothes, sailing lessons—your idea of value got skewed. Was the free work he was doing enough to earn everything he’d been given? He hoped so. But he couldn’t shake the feeling he needed to do more.

In an attempt to clear his head of those thoughts, he’d summoned Roxy to block them out. Her mix of confidence and insecurities, as well hidden as she could get them. The way she’d looked up at him, green eyes shining, and said, Think about me. Ah, it all made sense now. She’d cursed him.

It figured that the first girl to make him want to work this hard—hard being the operative word—acted like she could take him or leave him. This was his punishment for never pursuing a relationship that took place outside his bedroom. As a result, he didn’t know how. He sucked at it.

And he really sucked at sucking at things.

As a result, he’d spent today trying to convince himself he didn’t want a relationship with Roxy. Or anyone. Oh, and he’d been really convincing, too, checking his phone for a text from her before he’d even finished his thought. Of course, she hadn’t texted him. Pathetic.

All right, that’s it. He’d held out for two days. Giving Mr. and Mrs. Ravanides his best smile, he pushed back from the table. “Would you excuse me for a minute? I just need a little air.”

“Sure, sure.” Mrs. Ravanides, very businesslike, cleared his plate. “I’ll wrap this up for you.”

“If you didn’t, I was going to.” He winked at her. “That’s my lunch tomorrow.”

Her cheeks turned pink. “As it should be. I’ll just throw in some more lamb and pita.”

Louis walked out onto the front porch and collapsed onto their stoop. Thank God he’d planned on an Italian restaurant tomorrow night. If he ever saw another piece of feta cheese again, he’d probably run away screaming. He reached into his pocket and took out his cell phone, pulling up Roxy’s picture. Immediately, his annoyance with her dulled to a whisper, and all he wanted to do was hear from her.

Help me.

What appears to be the problem, sir?

Great. He was already smiling. Why couldn’t everything with her be this easy?

Ate too much. Need someone to roll me back from Queens. A crane might work, too.

What kind of food was it?

Greek.

Worth it.

Tell that to my belt buckle.