I pull on a pair of black booties with three inch height, and make my way out of the house with five minutes to spare.
As I’m walking down the pavers, I hear a wolf whistle.
“Whew, girl!” Hum Judy calls from where she and the others are gathered at music circle. “Knock him dead.”
I give her a smile and wave before turning and walking the rest of the way to the parking lot, where Warren’s driver is already waiting for me.
The drive is relatively short, and before I know it, we’re pulling up and the valet is opening my car door for me. “Thank you.”
I look up at the restaurant, Balboa’s Beach. It’s the same restaurant that I saw Warren on with date number fourteen and several others. The excited butterflies in my stomach turn into nervous caterpillars writhing around. He’s had nothing but bad dates here. Granted, he caused those bad dates, but still.
I’m determined to erase all of those and give him a good memory of this place. After all, the ambiance is beautiful. Right near the ocean, the view couldn’t get any better.
I walk in and head to the hostess, giving her my name.
“Oh, you’re here for Warren Knight,” she says with a smile.
I nod. “Yes.”
She walks around to escort me to the table. “What’s he like?” she whispers.
“Well, he’s great with his penis,” I deadpan.
She doesn’t even miss a beat. “I knew it,” she replies dreamily. “He comes in here a lot, but he seemed different tonight.”
That statement does all sorts of things to me.
“Right this way,” she says, as she leads me past the entry area and into the lavish restaurant. It’s all floor to ceiling windows, mood lighting and linens, candlelight and fancy clothes.
But instead of heading to Warren’s usual table near the corner window, we veer off, and the hostess leads me up the stairs to the rooftop area. There’s a gorgeous view of the stars above and the ocean in the distance, and it’s so beautiful that it makes my breath catch.
To my surprise, all the other tables that are usually out here are gone. The glass rock fireplace is burning low, the fairy lights are lit and strung around the railing, and there’s a single, white table sitting in the center of the space, with a single man standing beside it, waiting for me.
“Enjoy...all of that,” the hostess says with a wink before turning and walking away, leaving us alone.
Warren and I watch each other, neither of us moving for a moment. With his hands in his pants pockets, he looks devilishly handsome. Crisp black suit, no tie, tousled black hair, and dark eyes that are caressing every inch of my body.
We start walking towards each other at exactly the same time.
As soon as we’re standing in front of each other, Warren cups my face in his hand. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” I whisper. “You look hot.”
He chuckles and leads me to our table, where he pulls out a chair for me to sit. As soon as Warren is sitting across from me, a waiter appears from nowhere and pours us glasses of wine before disappearing again.
Warren raises his wineglass, so I pick mine up, and we clink them together before taking a sip. But as soon as the liquid hits my tongue, it’s a big mouthful of nope. I go full mouth exorcism and spew white wine all over the tablecloth between us.
Warren doesn’t even blink, just continues to enjoy his own wine before setting it down on the table. “Not a fan of the wine, darling?” he says, his mouth twitching slightly.
I grimace as I wipe my mouth with a napkin. “The stuff tastes like hairspray and judgment.”
“But with a fruity aftertaste,” he deadpans. His eyes glance down at the table. “Good thing I didn’t order a red.”
“Good thing it wasn’t vomit this time,” I add.
“Indeed,” he says with a nod.
The waiter returns, this time with a tray of four different dishes of food that he sets on the table.
I look at Warren curiously, and he answers my unspoken question. “I ordered each of the chef’s specials tonight. I wanted you to be able to taste them all.”
“Look at you being all rich and thoughtful.”
Before the waiter retreats, Warren stops him. “Can you take her wine away, please? She doesn’t care for it.”
The waiter instantly removes it. “Of course. Is there something else you’d prefer, miss?”
“Do you know how to make a nice blow job?” I quip.