Exposed Exposed (Dom Nation #1) - E. Davies Page 0,75
stargazing with champagne.
It worked in the movies, right?
“Yep,” I told him with a self-satisfied smile. “Let’s go.”
He waited in the entrance lobby while I paid—which earned me a curious stare from the staff, which was rather irritating since they were clearly expecting the older man to pay. But I brushed it off and led him to the elevator. When he tried to hit the ground floor button, I pushed his hand away and pressed the top floor instead.
“Oh,” Slate breathed out, his whole face lighting up again as he figured out the plan. “I’ve never been up here.”
“Better late than never,” I told him and slid my hand into his. “You’ll like the view.”
Slate leaned into me like he was about to say something risqué. “I like all the views you’ve shared with me,” he said.
I didn’t comment, but I grinned to myself. So far, so good. I hadn’t horribly screwed up the dinner conversation, wine etiquette, or any one of the thousand romantic moments that had passed between us already tonight.
Come on. Nail the landing, Rex, I urged myself. My grip tightened on Slate’s fingers.
The elevator pinged softly, and the doors opened to the semidarkness of the viewing deck.
“I’ll go get us champagne,” I told him, brushing my hand gently across his back.
“Uh-huh.” Slate’s gaze was fixed on the huge windows, which showcased an even better view of the city than my apartment. He wandered toward the window as if spellbound.
I grinned and hurried to the bar. I’d managed to sneak a bouquet of flowers upstairs with the judicious use of tipping, and they ought to be waiting behind the bar now.
This was it. This was the moment.
My heart thudded. By the time I reached the bar and a black-shirted bartender swooped in to serve me, my throat seemed to be blocked by a frog. I gulped hard and said, “Hi. I’m Rex. I’d like two glasses of champagne, and also, I called about the flowers…”
“Ah!” She gave me a conspiratorial wink and pulled the slim bouquet out from under the bar. Just half a dozen red roses wrapped in black ribbon. Nothing too fancy. Yet. I could save those ideas for the proposal. Oh, God, that thought made my heart flip in my chest again. “Lucky lady.”
My lips twitched. “He is,” I agreed, doing my best to be solemn. Many men would take offense if she’d assumed otherwise. I didn’t want to embarrass her, but I couldn’t help the laugh that threatened to burst out.
“Oh, of course. Sorry, sir.” I just grinned to show her all was forgiven. “Lucky gent,” she corrected herself as she poured two glasses of champagne. “Is it an engagement?”
“No. I’m asking him out. I mean, we’re… sort of official. But I want to make it really official.”
She smiled warmly and placed the glasses in front of me. “Good luck. Not that you need it.”
“No. Thanks.” I ruffled in my wallet and handed over more than enough to cover the glasses plus the trouble of hiding away the roses.
This presented me with something of a problem. I couldn’t very well carry both glasses in one hand without spilling champagne. But I wanted to surprise him. Dammit, so much for all my careful planning.
I could shove the flower stems in the back of my pants, but they might slide down, and nobody needed ass flowers.
The bartender saw my dilemma. “I’ll bring the drinks over,” she offered, whipping out a small serving tray and balancing them.
“Thank you. I seem to have forgotten my spare hand at home.” My joke couldn’t quite cover the nervous waver in my voice, though.
Shit. Who the hell was this man occupying my body? Certainly not the Master X who effortlessly handled even the stubbornest boys, or Rex who didn’t break a sweat about production deadlines.
No, I was Tyrus Black, the scared young man under the veils Slate had so patiently drawn back. The man who had walked away from his own family to be the man I needed to be—starting by coming out at sixteen and sealing the deal by leaving for the big city where I’d always imagined my future and fortune awaited.
Well, I’d found both. And I was scared shitless to lose my chance at a future shared with Slate.
Don’t be ridiculous, I told myself as my moment for dawdling ran out. The bartender was stepping out from behind the counter, and it was time to lead the way.