not too fancy. Romantic, but not obviously so. Low-key, but still private.
I considered taking her to Madeleine, the restaurant attached to the homeless shelter I funded. Reese Deveraux runs it, and the chefs who work there train homeless people for careers in the food industry.
If Daphne doesn’t already know I’m affiliated with Madeleine, though, I don’t want to call myself out. I’ll never know if she likes me for who I am if I’m trying to impress her with what I do. So our first dinner will just be the two of us talking over a good meal…but not too good.
My gaze is trained on the ice, but my mind is on Daphne. I’m pretty sure I’ll know the moment I lay eyes on her if she’s only going out with me so she can say she tried and there was no chemistry or if she actually likes me, too. Even a little. I just need something to build on.
She’s a strong woman who clearly doesn’t need a man. But she can want one. Preferably one in particular.
A St. Louis player scores a goal and I look away from the game. I can be competitive, and I want my team to win.
It’s what I do with my work, too—I try to win every day in ways big and small.
I buy companies that are on the verge of bankruptcy and make them run better, saving the jobs of the employees. I take eyesore buildings and breathe new life into them through renovation. I run the Blaze organization to be a team Chicago is proud of. A team with a fighting chance at the cup every year and happy coaches and players who get to do their jobs without me micromanaging.
I’m a lot more than a man sitting on top of a big pile of money. Tomorrow night, I have to make sure Daphne sees that.
Chapter Ten
Daphne
“It’s not a date,” I tell Julia as I shimmy out of a pair of jeans.
“You mentioned that about thirty times already.”
“It’s not.”
“Thirty-one.”
I glare at her. “Try to be helpful, will you? Pass me that black dress.”
My sister shakes her head. “You’re not wearing that.”
“Why not?”
“Because it covers every inch of you but your face and hands. Save it for the next funeral you attend.”
I groan with frustration. “What am I going to wear?”
She reaches into the suitcase she brought over to my apartment.
“My black leggings and booties, your purple cami and this gray cardigan I haven’t even worn yet. And some long silver earrings. Go take a shower and I’ll do your hair and makeup.”
“I’m hungry, let’s eat first.”
Julia looks at me like I just grew another head. “It’s 3:15, Daphne.”
“So what? I didn’t eat lunch because I was busy cleaning.”
“I’ll make you a little plate of cheese and crackers. I brought snacks.”
“You brought snacks?” I ask, amused.
“I’m a mom. I always bring snacks. You’re getting Goldfish and string cheese.”
I make a face. “I was thinking more like a giant sub sandwich from the deli down the street.”
“You can’t eat a big meal this close to your date. You won’t be hungry enough. Good guys like women who eat on dates.”
“Jules, if all I get is some Goldfish and string cheese, I’m going to start gnawing on my own arm by the time we sit down at the restaurant. You want me to be hangry?”
Her grin is confident. “You won’t be. I’m also allowing you one glass of wine to loosen you up. I can tell you’re nervous.”
“I’m not nervous because it’s not a date.”
Julia rolls her eyes. “This is me, Daph. Lie to yourself if you want, but you can’t lie to me.”
“We’re just hanging out.”
“Andrew and I were just hanging out, too. And then all of a sudden we’d done anal and were shopping for a china pattern.”
Laughing, I say, “But you wanted to get married. After Aiden, I don’t want that anymore.”
“Aiden’s a tool. You guys would’ve broken up a lot sooner if our parents weren’t friends with his parents.”
She’s right, and it’s a sore spot for me. It shouldn’t matter what family he comes from, the guy broke my heart. But my parents want me to give him another chance.
“Yeah, Dad still wants him to be his son-in-law,” I say bitterly. “Even after he cheated on me.”
Julia sighs. “We both know Mom and Dad have shady moral compasses. You can’t make it in politics if you don’t.” She grabs the glass of wine she set on top of my dresser when