I hadn’t noticed out on the street how tired he looked as well. He’d shaved and his hair, usually hidden by a cap, had been combed, but there were dark shadows under his eyes. From the calls and texts we’d exchanged this week, he’d probably put in sixteen-hour days to my twelves.
“I’m sorry, sir. We’re fully booked tonight. If you like, I can suggest a few other options close by, or I’d be happy to make a reservation for you for a later date—”
“A later date won’t work,” Soren didn’t quite but almost snapped. “I leave tonight. She leaves again on Monday.”
The hostess was getting flustered, Soren already was, so I slid in front of him in an attempt to convince him we could go somewhere else. Anywhere else. I didn’t care, because we were together. I would have been in bliss if we grabbed a couple of hot dogs and sodas from a street vendor and parked it on a curb, because after the longest week on record, we were together again.
The annoying roommate I used to make a point of keeping my distance from was now the one I wanted to be as close to as possible.
“Hayden?” a familiar voice called right before Ellis appeared over Soren’s shoulder. “What are you doing here?”
Soren’s jaw worked before he turned.
“What did you think of Paris? I already know how much the client loved you.” Ellis didn’t seem to care how close Soren was hovering beside me. He leaned in and gave me a quick hug. It wasn’t anything outside the realm of casual friends, but from the look on Soren’s face, Ellis might as well have shoved me up against a wall and stuck his tongue in my mouth.
“Paris was good. I’m glad to be home though.” I leaned out of the embrace before he was ready to let me go.
A blonde woman in a couture gown waited behind him, but Ellis made no effort to introduce her.
“From the sounds of the shows and campaigns they want to use you for, Paris is going to become your home away from home soon.”
Soren’s head twisted toward me. He knew I’d be back and forth to Paris for a while. I just might have left out how frequently, and how long of a duration, that would be. I’d really only just found out this past week that the client wanted to keep things open until they had a chance to work with me. From the sounds of it, I’d impressed them. Some awkward girl from Nebraska was going to be the face of an iconic international fashion brand. The news was still sinking in.
“Did you just finish dinner or are you just about to sit down?” Ellis asked after his prior statement remained unaddressed.
“Actually—”
Soren’s hand dropped onto my back, moving me away. “We’re just leaving.”
“Did you have a nice dinner? This is one of my favorite places.”
I sealed my lips, letting Soren answer however he wanted to. Even if that meant walking us out the door.
“They don’t have the reservation I made. So we’re heading somewhere else.”
Ellis chuckled, moving up to the hostess table. “Yeah, sometimes they do that when certain people arrive.”
I hoped Soren had missed the way Ellis said certain people like it was an affliction. He hadn’t.
After having a short conversation with the hostess, Ellis leaned in to press a quick kiss to her cheek. “You’re all set. Melanie here has a table ready for you.”
Again, I waited for Soren’s lead. He wasn’t exactly fond of Ellis, so if he wanted to leave instead of accept some favor, I was good with that. Instead, he took my hand and moved up to where the hostess was waiting for us with menus in hand.
“Are you sure?” I whispered to him.
His head moved. “I wanted to take you somewhere nice. I’m sure.”
Ellis clapped Soren’s shoulder as we passed. “Be sure to add their bill to mine. Let the server know, would you?”
Soren stopped. “I’ve got it. Thanks.”
Ellis waved that off. “Please. Don’t spend a month’s paycheck on one dinner. Let me take care of it. Hayden is my top girl right now. I have to make sure she gets treated right.”
Soren’s shoulders stiffened beneath his dress shirt. “I’ll take care of our bill,” he said, his eyes having no problem holding Ellis’s unyielding stare. “I’ll take care of her, too.”
Ellis shrugged, stepping aside so we could follow the hostess. Soren’s hand felt rigid and hot in mine. This wasn’t how I’d been hoping to spend our two hours together.
“This is a really nice place, Soren.”
By the time I was sliding into my chair, the hard lines on his face had started to disappear. He made sure I was settled in my chair before moving toward his. “I’m glad you like it.”
My eyes about fell out of their sockets when I saw the menu. To be exact, the prices listed beside the menu items. I was rolling in some good money now, a six-figure income I’d only dreamed of one day making. Still, that didn’t change who I was or how I felt about a prawn cocktail costing fifty dollars. My mom used to feed four of us for two weeks on fifty bucks.
“I’m paying for dinner tonight, okay?” I kept my eyes on the menu, knowing this wasn’t going to go over well.
“No. Not okay.”
“Soren—”
He leaned across the table. “Hayden, I’m paying.”
Half of my face pulled up when I saw the three-digit prices besides the entrees. “Dutch?”
A groan echoed across the table. “You can’t take one more manly thing away from me. No way. You insist on wearing stilts whenever we go out in public together—most of the time,” he added, when I flashed my flats outside of the table. “You’re not picking up the dinner tab too.”
My teeth worked over my lip, doing a rough tally of how steep the bill would run tonight, even if we only ordered dinners. I knew roughly how much he brought home every month, and this one dinner would tear through almost a quarter of it.
“Please. I wanted to do something special for you. To celebrate this big deal you just landed. To celebrate you being on the fast-track to supermodel status.” He lifted his water cup at me, toasting.
I lifted mine and clinked it against his. “We should be celebrating you being on the fast-track to the pros too, right?”
“It’s way early to assume any of that—to even hope”—his eyes sparkled across the table at me—“but I played one hell of a game when those scouts were in the stands watching.”
“You always play one hell of a game.” My hand stretched across the table when he held out his. “How was the ankle injury?”
“What ankle injury?” he asked, straight-faced. Then he chuckled. “The ankle was great. Didn’t feel a thing. Your healing touch worked wonders.”
My legs squeezed together from the look he gave me. It was the same one I’d stared at the night he’d taken me on the table in the apartment. Penetrating. Domineering.