Sebastian by Christina Benjamin

Author:Christina Benjamin [Benjamin, Christina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Goodreads: 44787248
Publisher: Crown Atlantic Publishing
Published: 2019-04-16T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter 10

Holly

“Take a left here,” I cry abruptly, shooting straighter in my seat and pointing down the next corner.

Bash frowns, brow creasing. “Okay, I know you were right before but if we turn left we’re going to be headed in the complete opposite direction of the last delivery. And this time I know what I'm talking about. I go to that restaurant all the time.”

“Must you incessantly doubt me?” I dramatically heave a sigh, which turns into a grin as he takes the turn as I instructed.

There’s a certain amount of obvious delight I take in giving him orders and having him follow them. It feels, I imagine, like successfully mounting a wild stallion. And what I wouldn’t do to mount him again.

Seriously, Holly? I scold myself, shaking my head at my own lustful thoughts.

I focus ahead once more. “Ah, here we are!” I announce, giddily.

“Holly,” the billionaire responds, his tone entirely unimpressed. “This is a McDonald’s.”

“Yep, and I'm starving. Come on, I'll get you a sausage biscuit for helping me out today.”

“Wow. A whole biscuit? You’re too kind,” he says sarcastically.

“Hey, don’t forget I’m in charge of you this morning. Don’t make me change my mind about being your date tonight!”

“Don’t tempt me,” he jokes.

I stick out my tongue.

Bash just rolls his eyes, at least having the sense not to argue with a ravenous woman. He throws the van into park before following me inside the small fast food restaurant. When we step in, we’re immediately deluged by the smell of frying potatoes and sizzling meat. My tummy growls, palm pressing against it as though I was asking it to wait.

We step forward in line, stuck behind a woman and her toddling son. Bash glances at his watch, then me. The time for our delivery is getting closer and closer. If we don’t get served soon, we’ll just have to leave. The little boy whines, tugging at his mom’s shirt as she digs in her purse. The woman casts an apologetic look at us, just noticing our presence. We’re the only ones in the restaurant this early.

“I'm sorry, I can’t find my wallet. Just give me a moment,” she begs, continuing to paw through her bag. Tears are beginning to form in the corners of her eyes and her son starts to wail. “Honey, I think we might have to go home and find my wallet,” she says, grabbing the child’s hand and trying to drag him toward the door.

“But Mommy you promised! We never get to go out for breakfast and you promised we could!” the child cries, voice pitching higher and higher. “I'm hungry!”

Before I can say anything, Bash suddenly takes a single stride forward, sliding a gleaming black credit card over the counter toward the cashier. “I'll pay for it,” he says with a gentle smile at the startled woman. “Holly, what do you want? Add it on, too.”

“Um . . . I'll have a sausage biscuit and an orange juice,” I murmur, shocked by his kind gesture.

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