“Dashing,” he agreed. “I’ve yet to see a better looking bean.”
“I’m not even into legumes very much.” Oh my God, what was I saying?
Devon laughed. “You little nutter.”
“Dev?”
“Hmm?”
“Now’s a good time to tell me why you’re a raging claustrophobe.”
“Ask me again later.”
“How much later?”
“When I trust you.”
“That may never happen,” I pointed out.
“Exactly.”
We arrived at a quaint café with bay windows and potted flowers on the tables. When the hostess showed us to our table, running her gaze along Devon’s body appreciatively, I internally groaned.
I wondered if that would have happened if I were showing.
Then I reminded myself that it didn’t matter because we weren’t a couple.
“Aren’t you a lord? I mean, a duke?” The waitress fawned over him.
Devon shot her a polite yet short smile. “Marquess,” he corrected.
After pulling my chair out for me to sit, my baby daddy proceeded to order the entire menu without even looking at it.
“We have twenty-seven items on the menu,” the waitress warned, batting her eyelashes at him. Was I invisible next to this bastard?
“Good. My date likes variety,” Dev said. I had a feeling he was referring to my sexual conquests.
“Any particular order you want the food to come out?” The waitress was now half leaning against him, and again, I wanted to pick up the fork from the table and stick it between her eyes.
“Ask my date. While you’re at it, could you kindly keep an eye on her? She is very good at making me worry.”
He took my prescription and driver’s license and dashed across the street to the pharmacy to grab my morning sickness pills.
When he returned, I noticed the bag he was carrying was far larger than it should have been.
“Did you buy out the entire place?” I raised an eyebrow, sipping a terribly green and offensively healthy juice.
This baby better come out ready for a triathlon because I was doing everything right.
Devon turned the bag upside down and poured its contents on the table.
“Did you know there’s an entire aisle dedicated to pregnant women?”
“Yes,” I said matter-of-factly.
“Well, I didn’t. So I decided to buy whatever they had to offer. We have things for heartburn, dietary supplements, morning sickness, constipation, and vaginal imbalance.”
“You mean pH imbalance. If my vag was imbalanced, I’d send her to a pussy shrink.”
Devon sputtered the sip of coffee he took while sitting down. He was laughing hard. I felt his laughter bubbling in my own chest.
“My mother is going to love you,” he deadpanned.
Surprisingly, I found myself cackling out loud despite my best efforts not to. Not only because the idea of my ever meeting his mother was deranged, but also because he was right. His family would probably have a collective heart attack if they ever met me.
“Did you tell her about your new status?” I asked.
“Yes.”
“And?”
“She wasn’t impressed,” he admitted.
“And …？” I probed, my heart sinking a little.
“I’m in my forties and in a position to do whatever the hell I please. And what I wanted to do was you. Case closed.”
There was so much more I wanted to ask—to know—but I had no right to probe. Not after I drew a thick glaring line between us.
“So tell me a little about your fear of elevators, cars, planes, etc,” I said as I tore into some eggs Benedict.
He grinned. “Nice try. You didn’t gain my trust in the last half hour. And, to be frank, I don’t think you ever will.”
“Why not?”
“Trust cannot be placed in the hands of someone who does not trust themselves. I’m not against telling you my story, Emmabelle, but weaknesses should be exchanged in the same way countries exchange war hostages. It’s a rather bloody and bleak thing, isn’t it? Our insecurities. One should not relinquish information without gaining some.”
“Ha.” I smiled, buttering a piece of carrot cake, even though it made no sense. “So you’re not, in fact, perfect?”
“Not even close. Not even in the realm.” His smile was contagious.
I ducked my head down and tried to concentrate on the food.
“Well, I’m not ready to put my trust in you yet either,” I admitted.