The Risk of Falling

Chapter Nine: The Non-Date Dinner

"Chinese? Or how about some donair pizza?"

I looked up from the ad campaign materials I was assembling in a binder for tomorrow's presentation and found Luke perched on my desk, grinning, still decked out in his suit with a black, leather laptop bag slung over his shoulder.

I straightened and glanced around and saw that the office was empty. I checked my watch and groaned. It was six in the evening, much, much later that day.

"What are you still doing here?" I asked as I closed the binder and rose from my seat, stretching my poor, sore back and stiff shoulders. "And no, I don't want Chinese food or some greasy donair pizza, thank you."

Just then, my stomach grumbled and I flushed.

He laughed. "Your mind doesn't but your tummy clearly does. No surprise since you only had half of your sandwich earlier. Come on, Terrence dropped off the car keys before he headed to school so I'll drive us."

I slipped off my ballet flats and put on my pumps as I collected my tote. “I’m not going anywhere with you. I have groceries to pick up and I’m already running late. I'm sure you have a cook who can whip you up some gourmet dinner."

"Not really," he said as he watched me roughly re-do my ponytail which had loosened in the past few hours. "I have a housekeeper who comes in a few times a week and brings some prepared meals for me to nuke and eat when I happen to be home for dinner."

I stopped and looked at him, watching for any obvious signs of amusement in case he was just pranking me with the puppy dog eyes and the sad, tired look.

I sighed. "Alright. I'll go sit with you for your dinner out but you have to drop me off at a grocery store so I can stock my fridge and make dinner when I get home."

His brows scrunched up together. "Well, that doesn't make sense. If you're so set on getting groceries, why don't we get a little extra and we can just make dinner?"

I stared at him for a moment, wondering if he knew what he was suggesting.

"You want us to cook dinner? At my apartment? After we get groceries? Together?"

"Yes, yes, yes and yes," he answered with a vigorous nod of his head. He caught my expression and sighed. "Or if you're not amenable to that, we can get groceries and I'll make dinner for us at my condo. You'll have to suffer with mac and cheese though because that's about as gourmet as I can get in the kitchen."

I couldn't help the reluctant smile tugging at the corners of my mouth as I slung on my tote. "You're too good at this, you know?"

He smiled back. "Good at what?"

"Getting what you want," I muttered with a roll of my eyes, grabbing him by the elbow and dragging him behind me. "Come on. You know where this all looks bad so it's on your head."

"Just remember what I told you," he reminded me as we went into the elevator. "If anyone says anything to you, tell me."

I decided to leave off that specific topic and asked him about the rest of his day after we parted from lunch. Luke chatted on about all kinds of stuff and I couldn't help but do the same because even though he was my boss ( a few ranks too many above me, really)—he was disarming in his own candidness and volition to confide in me like we were old friends.

We arrived at the same, small lobby that exited to his own private parkade and got into a car different from the one Terrence drove us in when we went for lunch yesterday. This one was a sporty, silver coupe with a cozy backseat and barely enough room in the trunk for our few bags.