word deadline. I know for a fact I’m going to miss that deadline. She doesn’t need to know that, though. “He won’t get in the way of that.” I shake my head cheerfully, my hair swishing against my shoulders.
“Okay then,” she says as she raises her brows and finally picks up a cupcake. Not the small ones from the tray of random sweets, nope, Kat goes for the largest cupcake with hot pink icing and an Oreo stuck in the center. “Please tell me you’re at least using condoms until you get back on the pill or something.”
I know she meant for that to be funny, but when I give her a side-eye and a shrug, she practically chokes on that Oreo.
Mason
So close you can touch her,
Delicate and sweet.
You need her, you crave her,
To hide your deceit.
Be gentle and coaxing,
You can’t let her know.
If she finds out the truth,
Out the door she will go.
Blue Hill dims the lights in the evening at six o’clock sharp. The dinner atmosphere is romantic with lit candles on the tables, combined with the soothing sound of water flowing down the river rock wall next to the kitchen. The chatter from the other guests goes unheard as I sit here alone. The only sound that resonates with me is the clink of silverware and glasses as I wait for Jules to walk through the doors.
My fingertips brush over the silver tines of my salad fork as I stare straight ahead toward the entrance and maître d’. Multiple guests have arrived since I sat down twenty minutes ago, each one catching my attention and disappointing me. I glance down at my watch again. She still has five minutes until she’s late.
I make a habit of being early, but I’m regretting it this time. Every minute that passes makes me more eager to leave. Curiosity is the only thing keeping me here in my seat. The door opens and the soft cadence of heels clicking on the slate floor echoes in the large open space.
She’s here. Jules slips her gray wool peacoat off her shoulders when she walks in and drapes it in her arms as she strides to the maître d’. I stand and button my suit jacket as I walk toward her. I’m only a few tables away and she sees me as the man asks her if she has a reservation.
“She’s with me.” My voice comes out deep, confident … possessive even. As she turns toward my voice, the hem of her plum-colored dress sways around her thighs. It’s tighter around her ass and waist, showing off her curves and reminding me how she looked beneath me last night.
“Of course,” the maître d’ says and nods.
“Thank you,” Jules answers sweetly, giving him a soft smile and looking back at me. It’s only a quick glance before a blush rises to her cheeks and she takes my hand.
She has a shy elegance about her, but there’s more to her than that. I want to dig a little deeper, if for nothing more than curiosity’s sake.
I gesture toward the table, pulling out her chair for her like a gentleman. It’s not in my nature, but I have enough manners to impress a woman at least.
“I’m surprised you wanted to see me again,” Jules says as I take my own seat. The confession sits between the two of us for a moment as I consider a response.
Before I can say anything, she adds, “Thank you, by the way.” Her eyes flicker from mine to the candle. I don’t miss how she takes a few glances around us as if she’s searching for someone.
I nod my head easily, setting my napkin in my lap and giving her a moment to get comfortable. The waiter quickly pours her a glass of water from the pitcher he’s holding.
“Good evening. May I start you off with something to drink?” The young man squares his shoulders and waits, holding the pitcher at attention. He’s dressed in a crisp white button-down and dark gray slacks that match his thin tie.
“A bourbon for me, please,” I say and wait for Jules. Her slender neck and shoulders are on display. The way the thin straps of her dress lay across the very edge of her shoulders taunt me to pull them down. A simple thin silver necklace sits right in the dip of her collarbone with the word happy etched in the middle. It’s the only piece of jewelry she’s wearing. No ring on her