I picked up my jacket and calmly walked to my car. Stu and his friend were still down when I pulled out of the parking lot.
I pushed them from my mind and chose to ignore the pain in my jaw and side. I’d dealt with much worse.
Besides, it was easy to forget about the discomfort when I had my date with Ashlyn to look forward to.
Chapter Five
Ashlyn
My heart stuttered when I opened the door to reveal Joseph waiting on my front porch. His aquamarine eyes and cocky smile were as striking as ever, but they weren’t what caught my attention. A bruise darkened his jaw, marring his beauty with signs of violence.
“Oh my god,” I exclaimed. “What happened?” I reached out to brush my fingers across the mark, careful not to apply pressure.
He shrugged. “It’s nothing. I’m fine.”
“That’s not what I asked,” I clarified. “I’m glad you feel fine, but I asked you what happened.”
He blinked at me, then grinned.
“What?” I demanded, not understanding his levity. He was hurt, and he was acting like it was nothing.
“You’re not as shy as I thought,” he said, amusement coloring his tone.
My cheeks heated. It wasn’t like me to be so assertive, but social awkwardness was one thing. Concern for his wellbeing was another.
I lifted my chin. “Are you going to tell me what happened, or not?”
He chuckled. “Just a little misunderstanding with Stu.”
My brows shot up. “A misunderstanding?” I hoped this wasn’t about me, but I wasn’t vain enough to ask that.
Joseph nodded. “Stu thought he and his bros could beat me up. They were mistaken.”
I softened. “But you’re hurt. Do you need to see a doctor or something?”
His grin widened. “For this? I’ve had much worse. Like I said, I’m fine.” He reached out and took my hand in his. “I’d feel a lot better if you’d let me take you to dinner, though.”
“But why did they try to beat you up?” I asked, even as I allowed him to lead me toward his car.
He glanced down at me. “Do you really have to ask?”
I blushed and cut my eyes away. I couldn’t believe men had fought over me. It was strange, and more than a little disconcerting.
“I’m sorry you got hurt because of me.”
He squeezed my hand gently, pulling my gaze back to his. “It wasn’t your fault. Stu chose to get angry. He made a stupid decision to try to save face after I embarrassed him at the bar. Besides, I’m barely bruised. I’m okay, really.”
I gaped at him. How could he say that? I knew some men got into fights occasionally, but I wasn’t accustomed to casual violence.
I decided not to press him on it. Maybe he was putting on a brave front, and I didn’t want to damage his ego by fussing over him. If he wanted to be all macho about defending my honor, I wouldn’t make him feel bad about it. In fact, it was kind of hot. I wasn’t happy that he’d been hurt, of course, but the idea of Joseph as my knight in shining armor was undeniably swoon-worthy.
He ushered me to his car and opened the door for me, like a gentleman. The way his hands lingered around my body when he buckled my seatbelt wasn’t as gentlemanly. My pulse raced in response to his nearness.
Too soon, he drew away and took his place on the driver’s side. He held my hand in his as he drove. The contact was casual, familiar; as though we’d done this hundreds of times. Being with him, having him touch me, felt as natural as breathing.
To my surprise, we pulled into the parking lot of one of the nicest Italian restaurants in town. Delrio’s was known for its delicious—but expensive—Sicilian dishes, and even the wealthier students at Harvard didn’t make a habit of splurging there regularly.
“Is this okay?” Joseph asked as he helped me out of the car.
“You didn’t have to bring me here.” He didn’t need to throw money around to impress me, and I didn’t like thinking that he’d spend all his tips for the week on one dinner date with me.
“They serve the best food in town,” he countered, waving away my concern. “I wanted to bring you here.”
“Thank you.” I wasn’t really sure what else to say. I didn’t want to offend him by bringing up his salary, but I still wasn’t entirely comfortable with the extravagance of the venue. “I think I’m underdressed,” I said to cover the real reason for my tension.
Truthfully, it was a genuine concern. I’d put on a pretty, lavender cashmere sweater, but I really should be wearing a dress rather than jeans.
He smiled down at me as he opened the restaurant door. “You’ll be the most beautiful woman here. No one will care what you’re wearing.”
I flushed, but I couldn’t drop my eyes from his burning, flame-blue gaze. No man had ever looked at me the way Joseph did: like he worshipped me but wanted to devour me at the same time.
“You look nice, too,” I finally managed. He was even more dressed-down than I was, wearing his usual black shirt, leather jacket, dark jeans, and heavy black boots. But he was beautiful enough that he could easily be a model or movie star. No one would turn Joseph away from any venue, no matter what he was wearing.
His lips curved with pleasure and a hint of amusement. “Thank you.”
Our intimate moment was shattered when a pretty blonde server showed us to our table. Joseph didn’t so much as glance in her direction. It was as though he was transfixed by me, his full attention keen to the point that it should’ve been uncomfortable.
I reveled in it, basking in the warm glow of his overt admiration. Not only was it an ego boost, but no one in my life—romantically involved or otherwise—had ever considered me with such rapt interest, as though they were trying to peer straight into my soul. It made me feel powerful and achingly vulnerable at the same time, and I was quickly becoming addicted to the sensation.
When we got to our table, Joseph pulled out my chair for me. His gentlemanly behavior was at odds with his bad-boy sense of style, and the combination was enticing. I was definitely becoming infatuated far too quickly. But if I was honest with myself, I’d been a goner the moment our eyes first met across the bar all those weeks ago.
Joseph ordered a glass of champagne for each of us, and the waitress didn’t even glance at me to assess my age. She only had eyes for Joseph, so she quickly nodded and rushed off to fulfill his order. It should’ve made me jealous, but the fact that he was still fully focused on me mollified any resentment I might have felt.
“You didn’t have to get me champagne,” I said, still worried about the extravagance of the evening.
He fixed me with a suddenly stern stare. “You keep telling me what I don’t have to do. I know I don’t have to. I want to do these things for you.”
“Oh.” I hadn’t thought about it that way. I’d been feeling guilty every time he did something nice for me. I wasn’t accustomed to being treated with such care and attention. “Thank you. I guess I’m just not used to it, is all.”
His head canted to the side. “You’re not used to people being nice to you?”