The Teacher's Billionaire

plan. It’d be wrong to come to Boston and not eat in the North End.”
    After placing their orders she immediately whipped out the money to pay. She still didn’t like that he’d paid for her that night in Newport. While the bill now didn’t come close to the tab that night, Callie figured it was the best she could do.
    “What are you doing?” Dylan asked when she handed the teenager behind the counter the twenty.
    As she expected, it looked like he planned on arguing with her over this. “Selling my soul,” she answered. “What does it look like I am doing?”
    Dylan ignored her. “Give her the money back. I’m paying for this,” he ordered the teen, his voice dripping with authority.
    The teen, who couldn’t have been more than sixteen, paused his hand over the cash drawer.
    “No. It’s my turn.” Callie knew people around them were watching. If it were any other person, she would take the money back and go along with them. But not this time. Not with this man. “You bought dinner in Newport remember? So either I pay now or I don’t eat.” She crossed her arms across her chest. Callie knew her reaction was a little over the top but she didn’t care. “Don’t even think about giving that money back to me,” she told the teen who kept looking back and forth between the two of them.
    She thought Dylan was going to argue more. He definitely looked as if he wanted to. Eventually he stuffed his wallet back into his jeans pocket and gave the teen a slight nod letting him know he could proceed.
    “Dinner is on me.” His voice was hard and left no room for argument.
    Score one for me.
    They carried their food to a bench outside not far from a small crowd that had gathered to watch a group of children perform some traditional Irish step dances. She knew by the way his jaw was clenched that Dylan was ticked because she’d insisted on paying, but she didn’t really care. Callie wasn’t going to let this relationship or whatever it was be one-sided when it came to covering costs.
    Someone not doing exactly what he says is probably a new experience for him, she thought biting into her turkey sub. Rather than argue with him, she suspected people usually asked how high he wanted them to jump when he gave orders. Most people with money and power seemed to think that way, or at least those she’d dealt with in the past did. She’d heard some of the crazy things the rich demanded from their workers on those television reality shows and the Internet.
    Both remained silent, content to watch the show as they worked on their lunches. Or at least tried to watch the show. Callie found herself paying more attention to the people walking by them. It seemed like every woman over the age of fifteen couldn’t help but stare and check Dylan out. Not that she could blame them. Still it annoyed her beyond belief. It was like she was invisible.
    One woman in particular, a tall curvy red head wearing painted on skinny jeans, seemed to linger near them a little longer than the rest. Callie sent her a look that she hoped said back off he’s mine.
    At least mine for now
. The night before had been incredible, as had the morning’s repeat performance. Memories of earlier activities brought immediate heat to her face. Without thinking she pressed her cup of iced tea against her cheek. The cold plastic felt wonderful against her flushed skin but did nothing for her racing heart.
    Next to her Dylan polished off his sub and tossed his trash in the nearby can without getting up. “You’re not always going to win.” He wrapped his arm around her shoulders again. “I gave in this time, but don’t get used to it.”
    His statement made her wonder if he had something long term in mind for them. Was it possible? Or was she just reading too much into his comment? Only time would tell she guessed. “We’ll see. I can be pretty stubborn.”
    “Ready to do some walking?” Dylan asked when Callie followed suit and tossed the remains of her lunch in the trash.
    “You know it,” she replied allowing him to pull her to her feet.
    Following the Freedom Trail they went by several key historical landmarks such as the site of the Boston Massacre and the Old State House. It always amazed Callie how so much key U.S. History could be mixed in among all the modern buildings.
    “What do you think he would think of the city if he saw if today?” Callie asked. They’d stopped in front of Paul Revere’s house. “Do you think he would