“Not for a car of that size, son,” Damon said, dismissive as always, waving a hand as if the matter were entirely settled. “The spaces near the entrance are far too narrow for the sedan, and people have no respect for other people’s property when they open their doors.”
Noah cracked his knuckles again, the sharp sound loud in the small space between our chairs.
“We already ordered some water,” Lily said, her voice quick and slightly overlapping Damon’s next breath. “Do you want to see the menu?”
“Of course,” Damon said, reaching for the leather-bound folder resting on the table.
He did not look at me, not even when his sleeve brushed against my green shoulder as he reached across the table. His skin smelled of the cold evening air and the leather seats of the car, completely free of the sweat and anger that had filled the cabin only ten minutes ago.
I watched him open the menu, his hands perfectly steady, his fingernails clean and trimmed.
