Right now, I really wanted to know why the hell she looked so tired and where her mind would wander every so often. It was starting to worry me. I wanted to demand she tell me everything, but demanding anything from her would be a mistake.
Roxie didn’t like pushy. She didn’t like pressure; that much was obvious. I knew it was likely because that douche bag of an ex did a number on her.
If she didn’t tell me, I was going to have to call Harlow. The circles under her eyes were unacceptable.
“You ready for tonight?” I asked, putting my tea back on the table.
She was swirling her straw around the soda she ordered. “I hope so,” she replied.
“I’ll be there tonight. I can introduce you around make sure everyone knows you’re the boss.”
She smiled. “How’s the new club coming?”
“Good. Almost done. As soon as I have you trained, I’m going to start spending a lot of time over there.”
Was that disappointment that flashed behind her eyes? I snatched her hand up off the table and rubbed my thumb across the back of her fingers. “Don’t worry, Rox. I’ll still have time for you.”
She glanced up from the soda. “You mean in case I have any questions about work?”
I shook my head slowly. “I think you know what I mean.”
The sound of a ringing phone interrupted whatever her response would have been. It was close and a little low, so I figured it had to be hers and it was in her bag.
She stiffened but otherwise made no move to answer.
I was glad because I wanted her all to myself.
The waitress came and delivered my sizzling tray of steak fajitas with all the fixins and a burger and fries for Roxie.
I liked a girl who ate. Most women ordered salad because they were always on a damn diet. I tried to tell ‘em real men liked curves, but all the stick-thin models being broadcast all over TV made them think different.
It was a damn shame.
I watched in amusement as Roxie poured a huge amount of ketchup beside her fries, dunked one in, and took a bite. She made a little sigh of appreciation that had my loins tightening.
“You gonna have some fries with that ketchup?” I teased.
She popped the rest of the fry in her mouth. “You cannot eat fries without ketchup. Lots of it.”
“If that’s the way you like it, baby.”
A change came over her, not really a visible one, but something shifted in the air. I looked up from the massive fajita I was assembling and saw her swallow thickly. “What is it?” I asked, automatically scanning the area around us for someone who appeared threatening.
“Don’t call me that.”
“Huh?” I asked, surprised I was the one who caused the change.
“Baby,” she said, clearing her throat. “I don’t like it.”
She didn’t like being called baby? What the fuck did that asshole do to her?
I tilted my head to the side. “How about sweetheart?”
She smiled, her shoulders relaxing. “I like that one.”
“Sweetheart it is.”
She went back to drowning her fries in ketchup, and I devoured my first fajita. Her phone started ringing again.
“Maybe you should get that,” I said around a bite of steak.
She pulled her bag into her lap. It was so damn big it looked like a suitcase.
“What the hell do you need that giant sack for?” I asked.
She gave me a look that would wilt the weak. Good thing I wasn’t weak. “It’s not a sack, and it’s for essentials.”
“Essentials?” I echoed, wondering what the fuck she thought of as essential.
The phone continued to ring as she searched around the endless bag of “essentials,” looking for it. The tone cut off and she paused in searching.
Then it started ringing again.
“Maybe it’s an emergency,” I said.
Roxie pulled out a handful of crap and laid it on the table and continued to search out her phone. When she found it, she said, “Ah-ha!” like it was some sort of major victory.
I thought it was cute as hell.
Her face paled slightly when she looked at the screen. Then she hit a button, silenced the ring, and dropped it back into the sack. “I don’t recognize the number,” she said.
She was lying.
A bad feeling wormed its way into my gut.
“Roxie,” I intoned.
She pretended she was busy scooping up the items on the table to put back. As she did, a torn piece of paper fluttered toward my plate.
It was a note that read, Call me.
Two words never incited so much jealousy.
I snatched it up before she could. I had no idea who it was from, but instantly, I didn’t like them. “You have an admirer?”
“No,” she said, reaching for the paper.
That bad feeling reared up again, and I knew. “Is he bothering you again?”
“Adam…”
“Is he the reason you don’t want me to call you baby?” I pressed.
“Does it matter?” she whispered.
“I think it does,” I replied.
The scrap of paper fell between us on our table. It might as well have been the Grand Canyon. Just like that, she pulled away. So far away she was nearly unreachable.
“You know you’re safe with me, right?” I said, leaning across the table.
Roxie snatched up the paper and crumpled it into a ball before dropping it back in her sack.
“And I don’t mean that in a totally romantic comedy type of way.”
That earned me a smile.
“You are safe with me that way too,” I added. “I’m not gonna hurt you.” I knew she was listening even though she kept her eyes away from mine. So I continued. “I’m talking about the kind of safety where you can tell me anything. The kind of safety where nothing you say will ever change the way I see you.”
“How do you see me, Adam?” she asked. Damn if that vulnerable piece of her wasn’t visible in her eyes.
“I see you as completely lovable, every last part of you.”
“I have scars you can’t see.” I noted the small catch in her voice.
“We all do, sweetheart,” I said, laying my hand palm up on the table between us. I wiggled my fingers, inviting her.
She wavered.
“Your scars are beautiful, Rox, just like the rest of you. Your scars mean you were stronger than whatever—whoever—tried to hurt you.”
She slid her hand into mine.
Victory.
I gave it a gentle squeeze before pulling back. “Eat your ketchup,” I ordered and snagged a strip of steak off my plate and dunked it in her red stuff before shoving it in my mouth.