Her Billionaire Toy Boy

There was another silence. Mira took a deep breath. “Well, that was weird,” she said, forcing a laugh.

“Yep,” said Sam. “Hey, don’t answer now, but think about it. That was definitely not the way I would have chosen to invite you out there—but I do have a really nice place, and if you came you’d save me from a weekend away with Damien and whichever girl he’s thinking of bringing.”

“Um,” said Mira. “Okay.”

“Yeah,” said Sam. “I mean—I know, like, we just started dating and it’s a little weird to have—what—a second date that feels so…wait. I never asked: Would you want to go on a second date with me?”

He had stopped chopping. Mira stifled a smile. He was so innocent and awkward.

“I mean, in the abstract, yes,” she said. “I had a great time on Saturday.”

“As did I,” said Sam. “So—just text me or something, anytime in the next few days. And don’t think of it as a weekend away or anything like that. Like, with me. You don’t have to spend any time with me if you don’t want to. It’ll be really nice and peaceful—a retreat. An escape.”

That sounded wonderful.

“Okay, I’ll be in touch, then,” Mira said faintly. A minute and a half later, she was off the phone and staring at her overcooked pasta.

A weekend away with Sam?

Really?

He’d been sure to couch the invite, to tell her to think of it as a retreat, as an escape. And that sounded wonderful. She had friends who had estates out in Farrow Valley. It was often branded as the Napa Valley of the east. She was sure it would be a ridiculously lovely and relaxing weekend away. And Sam—while he clearly had not intended to invite her—was probably being honest at least when he’d said that thing about not having to be there with just Damien and his date. She’d save him from being a third wheel in his own home, anyway.

But it was so fast! They’d only really spent a handful of hours together—ever. A very nice handful of hours, to be sure. But still! It was so fast!

And he certainly would not have invited her if it hadn’t been for Damien. Certainly. He had some idea about how awkward that was; he’d said so. And the awful, awful pause, that loaded silence, which had taken over the phone after Damien had walked away!

She really, really didn’t want to accept the invite and then look desperate; as if she couldn’t drum up weekend plans without the friend of the guy she was—as of now—casually seeing having to step in. She also very much didn’t want to accept the invite and then feel like she was intruding on Sam’s personal life—his own home!—for the weekend.

But on the other hand, she knew—pragmatically speaking—that she wouldn’t really be intruding. A billionaire like Sam, Farrow Valley, the ease with which Damien had invited her…Sam’s place had to be huge. It likely wouldn’t be an imposition in any practical way. No, it was just the tenuous emotional imposition on a very very fledgling relationship. That was what was worrying Mira….

She shook her head. She’d never met Damien, but suddenly she was very livid and rather wished she could shout at the man. She was just beginning to like hanging out with Sam—casually—perhaps less casually in the future—and here was this absurd, confusing amount of pressure on their nascent relationship which threatened to ruin everything….

Fuming, she pried her overcooked pasta out of the water, sliced the tomatoes and the basil, and threw it all into a bowl together. She slathered the mixture with an indecent amount of very good olive oil, salt, and pepper, and sat down on her couch to eat the lot.

*****

Sam was fuming.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to spend more time with Mira. He did! He was really enjoying getting to know her. And—regarding the upcoming weekend away that they were suddenly taking—it’s not as if he wouldn’t have even thought about inviting her, himself. Perhaps at a later date. Perhaps during a weekend in which either he was inviting a lot of other people to his Farrow Valley estate, to take the pressure off. Perhaps, conversely, during a weekend in which there would be no-one else around so that he and Mira could really soak up the place by themselves.

He continued chopping his herbs, making them much smaller than they really had to be in the process.

Instead, the invitation had been foisted upon them both. Now he wouldn’t really know what Mira had thought—because she would either accept politely, out of nothing but politeness, or she would refuse because that would be way easier.

Oh, no, he thought. What if she thought that he had asked Damien to ask her? That he had deferred to elementary school dating tactics? He shuddered. So not only was he incredibly gauche, but he was gauche and a coward about it, too.

This was awful.

Sam threw down his knife and washed his hands, and then marched into the game room, where Damien was lounging, intensely involved in some sort of handheld video game.

“Damien,” Sam said, in an awful voice. He didn’t argue often, but when he wanted to sound scary, he certainly could.

“Yeah?” Damien did not do Sam the courtesy of looking up from his video game.

“Damien, come on,” said Sam, sitting on the couch next to his friend.

“What?”

“What was that for,” said Sam, jerking his head in the direction of the kitchen.

“What? You clearly weren’t going to invite her.”

“Did you ever think that that might have been on purpose?”

Damien looked over at Sam. “You like Mira, right?”

Sam frowned. He didn’t like the fact that Damien knew Mira’s name.

“Yeah,” he said. “But that doesn’t mean—“

“Yeah it does,” said Damien. “You’ve gotta spend more time with her if you want this to go anywhere…”

“I know.”

“And the more time you spend with the cougar, the more points you get,” Damien said.

Sam cringed.

“Um…Damien…”

“Yeah, Sam?” Damien had looked away from him and was becoming once again immersed in his video game.