I follow Slade and the redheaded waitress through the diner, looking at the sagging blue plastic seats and chipped white laminate tables. The second we walked out of my bakery, I knew this was a mistake.

To go on a date with Slade after letting Hunter hold me close, kiss me so thoroughly…

Technically, it wasn’t wrong or slutty, but it kind of felt that way. Especially with Slade putting his hands all over me and wrapping his arm around my waist. I’m trying not to be a bitch, but I don’t like it.

I sigh silently as Slade examines several booths before choosing one, totally ignoring the waitress. I realize I’m going to have to tell Slade I don’t want to date him, as soon as I find out whether or not I get the loan. Which better happen… like now.

“Which one do you want?” Slade asks, frowning at the tables.

“Doesn’t matter,” I say, crossing my arms. It’s a booth. All the tables are flat, so I don’t give a fuck.

He looks at me and sees how impatient I am, so he relents. “Alright. How about this one?”

“Fine,” I say, choosing a side of the table and sitting down. I toss my purse down next to me onto the booth.

“Great,” he says, scootching into my side of the table. “Move over, will you?”

I picture a gleaming new oven as I move over to accommodate him. Is it worth it? I wonder.

“Here you go!” the waitress says, handing us menus. “Can I get you something to drink?”

Before I can open my mouth, Slade cuts in.

“She’ll have a diet soda, and I’ll have coffee,” he says.

---

I frown as the waitress skips off to put the order in. As if he didn't really just order for me. My mouth opens and closes, with nothing coming out for a moment. I close my eyes and calm myself down. I’m just worked up, that’s all this is.

“I hate diet soda,” I inform him. “It tastes like plastic.”

“Well, I think it’s time you start expanding your palate a little,” he says, looking at the menu. “After all, you won’t be thin forever. My father says self-maintenance is best done before there’s an issue.”

I scowl down at my menu. I’m a little surprised, but not as much as I should be. I opt to say nothing, since his comment is so offhanded, but inside I’ve gone from being blasé to being downright pissed.

Slade seems oblivious. He launches into a long, boring story about a meeting he had at the bank with an awkward client. It’s only when he’s wrapping the story up because the waitress is returning with our drinks, that I realize he just told me about declining someone’s loan. About how fun it was for him, how funny it was.

I glance at him, flustered.

“A coffee for you, and a diet soda for the lady,” the redhead says.

“Thanks,” I mumble. “Actually, could I just get a water?”

Slade’s look is approving, which makes me want to order ten milkshakes, but I stay mum.

New oven. New oven, I remind myself. You can do it.

“Sure thing! Do you guys know what you want to order?” the waitress asks, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen.

I expect Slade to allow me to order first, but he doesn’t. Instead, he orders for me.

“She’ll have the house salad, no croutons, dressing on the side,” he says. “And I’ll have a BLT with fries.”

The waitress writes everything down, despite the fact that my jaw is hanging open with shock. I’m a human, not a fucking rabbit.

“Anything else?” she asks, barely looking up.

“I—” I say, but Slade cuts me off.

“No thanks,” he says, grabbing the menu out of my hands and stacking it with the other one.

“I’ll have that right out for you,” the redhead says, blushing when she makes eye contact with Slade. She bobs him a curtsy as she scoops up the menus. “Sir.”

As soon as she’s gone, I turn to Slade.

“You don’t order for me,” I say, keeping my words measured. “Ever.”

“Oh, come on,” he says, waving his hand. “I ordered you what my father gets for my mother. It’s a gesture.”

I stare at him, befuddled. He honestly thinks I want him to choose my food for me? The part about his parents doesn’t escape me, either.

He thinks this is getting serious, I realize. This is normal behavior for him.

Slade immediately changes the story, telling me instead all of the things he’s heard about the young woman who’s waiting on us. I look at him blankly.

There’s no way he can think that I’m interested in this, right? This just reminds me that I’m the subject of their gossip when I’m not looking. At that thought, I’m done. I don’t give a fuck if my life is ruined over not getting this damn loan. I. Am. Done.

“Can I get out?” I blurt.

Slade looks a little surprised that I interrupted him in the middle of a sentence. How rude of me.

“Uh… okay,” he says, disgruntled.

He makes a show of folding his napkin and putting it on the table, then sliding out of the booth. I get out of the booth, rummaging around in my purse. I refuse to owe him anything, even if he promised to pay for the meal.

“Here,” I say, offering him a twenty. “To cover my meal.”

I turn away and start to leave, but he stops me, his hand banding around my forearm. He jerks me so that I’m off balance when I look back at him. The pinch hurts my arm a bit, and my hand instinctively flies to his to get him off of me.

“Sit. Down.” His words are hissed.

“No,” I say, tugging on my arm to free myself.

He doesn’t let go, though. He draws me closer, his eyes burning into mine.

“I said sit down,” he says. “There’s no reason to cause a scene.”

“Stop it, Slade,” I say, my voice gone to gravel. “Let me go.”

A furious look comes over his face. “Outside, now.”

He starts dragging me toward the exit by the arm, oblivious to the fact that the waitress is staring at him with something like horror.

He’s squeezing so hard that it hurts, so hard that my arm goes a little numb. It feels like a bruising hold and my heartbeat speeds up, hating that he won’t let me go.

“Now!” he growls, giving me a hard shake.

I stop resisting, nearly paralyzed with shock and fear. Slade manages to pull me outside as my blood heats and I try to wrap my head around what’s going on. A sea-change has come over him as he yanks me around the side of the building, away from prying eyes.

He’s red in the face, sweating, and he doesn’t mind getting in my face. So close that his hot breath hits me, and makes my neck arch away from him.

“Where do you think you’re gonna go, huh?” he says, pushing me against the building. My back hits the cold brick wall and I gasp. “Do you think there’s somewhere you can go that I don’t control? Somewhere you can run around and be a slut, embarrass me?”

“Slade—” I try to speak, barely managing to get his name out of my mouth.

“You shut up. You’re good enough to look at, and you have childbearing hips,” he says, releasing my arm to grab my hips. “And my father says you pass muster. So I’m going to train you, teach you how to be a wife.”

I open my mouth again to protest, but he kisses me roughly, covering my mouth with his and shoving his tongue down my throat. His hands tear at my blouse, and I’m afraid that he’ll rip it. I push my hands against his shoulders, trying to push him away, but he only moves in closer, as if to show me how weak I am.

“St-” I move my face away from his to tell him no, but he grips my jaw and crushes his lips against mine.

I’m afraid he’ll do more than that, actually. I struggle, but it only seems to excite him. I try to push him away, but I’m too weak. I try to scream, but the sounds are muffled by his mouth on mine. My breathing comes in frantic pants, and my heart beats so hard it hurts. One of his hands snakes down between us, intent on getting up my skirt.

I don’t know what happens, exactly, but that’s some kind of trigger. Just before he can touch my panties, I shove him back with all my weight. He laughs and comes at me again, but this time I’m ready for him.

I knee him in the balls as hard as I can, right between the legs.

His face would be comical if I wasn’t so panicked. I don’t stick around for him to recover, though.

I turn toward the front of the building and run.