The Magnolia Chronicles: Adventures in Modern Dating(22)

Rob folded his arms on the table and leaned toward me. The tips of his fingers brushed against my wrist. "You're a little rude."

"It can't be much of a problem because you are still here," I mused. I didn't own that confident air but it was easier to fake it knowing there was no future here.

"Only because I don't know what you'd like for lunch," he replied. "Tell me now or I'll order one of everything."

Helpless to stifle a laugh, I eyed him. There was a touch of silver at his temples and the shadow of a long-abandoned nose piercing on his right side. Who was this guy and what did he want with me? Was it just about sex for him? I couldn't be the only available vagina.

"The mortadella," I said.

"You got it, lady," Rob said as he pushed to his feet. "I'm getting one of every cookie too. There's gotta be at least nineteen of them. I don't share cookies. You should know that about me. Do you want some? Never mind, I'll get a few extras for you."

He didn't wait for a response, instead stalking to the counter and giving me a killer view of his backside. Good god. As if his list of wonderful wasn't extensive enough, his ass was art. Watching him reach into his back pocket for his wallet was almost as swoony as the tie smoothing. I needed that move in GIF form.

When he shifted away from the counter, part of me resented the shopgirl's efficiency. I wouldn't have complained about a couple more minutes to study the lean lines of his body and undeniable confidence from a distance.

"Sandwiches are on the way." Rob set a bakery box and two drinks on the table before settling into his seat. He gestured to the clear plastic cups, saying, "Raspberry seltzer. You prefer black cherry but you like the house-made raspberry here. Do I have that right or did I turn it around?"

I've dated a bunch of guys over the past twenty-ish years. Some for several years, some more seriously than others. I've said "I love you" to more than one man. But never once in that time had a man ever recalled my seltzer ranking system. Hell, most of them couldn't remember my birthday without Facebook's help.

"Yes, that's correct," I said, my words stiff. "Thank you."

"You're welcome." He laced his fingers around his drink. "I keep wanting to call you MizMaggie," he said, referring to my handle on the dating app. "I'm still getting used to thinking of you as Magnolia." He held out his hand. "It's nice to finally meet you. I'm Rob Russo."

"Magnolia Santillian." I accepted his hand but had to work at keeping my expression neutral when our palms met. There was nothing outwardly amazing about his touch but it warmed me straight down to my toes. I glanced at my reflection in the window to see if my cheeks were as flushed as they felt.

He nodded as if this information unlocked the world's great mysteries. "Do you prefer Magnolia or Maggie?"

"I answer to a lot of names," I said, jerking a shoulder up.

"Like what? Tell me," he ordered, his chin tipping up as he spoke.

Shit. Just…shit. This man was forceful. It wasn't scary forceful or aggressive forceful but pleasantly assertive while still decent forceful, and it occurred to me that I liked his version of forceful. More specifically, I liked it on Rob.

And…I liked Rob.

"There's Magnolia, of course," I started, ticking off the name on my finger, "and my family calls me Magnolia or Mag or Maggie. Then there's Roof Garden Girl and Gigi, which is an obscure derivative of Roof Garden Girl. RGG, drop the R. I hated Gigi at first but I dig it now. Everyone calls me Gigi when I'm at work. Most of my friends use it."

"You're right. That is a lot of names," he replied. "I asked you which one you prefer. You haven't answered me yet."

"Oh, it doesn't matter," I said with a wave. Where the hell were those sandwiches? I needed something to do with my hands—and my mouth—but more importantly, Rob needed to stop staring at me. "I come when I'm called."

He propped his chin on his steepled fingers and his gaze fixed on my lips. I'd never known a hot stare until now. Hot like a sunburn.

"I bet you do." His knee brushed mine under the table and then it nudged, edging my legs apart. I wasn't sure whether he intended that or it was a happy accident. "Close your mouth, rude lady. You're giving me ideas that have no place at lunch."

My cheeks were pink and my heart was pounding but I managed an indifferent shrug. "I'm sure you can save them for another time."

"I tried to save them for dinner but you weren't having it." He studied me, his eyes narrowed and his lips pursed. After a pause, he asked, "When can I see you again?"

"You're seeing plenty of me right now," I said.

"And as I've been telling you for weeks, I'd like to see more of you," Rob said.

I shook my head while I sampled my drink. Perfect as always, none of that fake raspberry flavoring bullshit. "And as I've been telling you for weeks, I need to know you before any of that can happen. You don't need to tell me about your first grade teacher, but I don't know what you do or where you live and I'm not even sure I like you."

"You like me," he argued, his knee pressing against my inner thigh. "You like me enough to insult me. That has to count for something."