of the flowers because Charlie will see them in the trash can and think I’m nuts. But I can put the champagne away.
As the world would have it, she catches me in the act. “You got me bubbles?”
I turn around and freeze. Charlie is wearing the same snug-fit burgundy dress she wore when she went out with whatever his name was. That was the first time I realized I was in deep trouble. I fucking love that dress on her, and she must be aware of it, because she’s sporting a smug smile now.
“What do you think?” She twirls when she reaches the bottom of the stairs.
“Stunning.”
With a bounce to her step, she comes to my side. “You look good enough to eat.” She gives me a quick peck on the cheek and then takes a whiff of my neck. “Hmm, I love the way you smell.”
“Thanks, babe. Remember, you can have the whole thing; all you have to do is ask.”
“Tempting.” She steps back. “But I’d rather you ask me.”
I watch her for a moment, drinking her in. “We’ll see.”
She turns her attention to the ice bucket I’m still holding. “Are we having some or what?”
“I guess.”
I feel my face getting warmer, so I quickly turn around to hide it from Charlie.
“And those flowers?”
Ah shit. What’s wrong with me? I’m acting like an idiot.
I grab the bouquet and give it to her. “For you, sweetheart.”
She brings the roses to her nose and takes a deep breath. “They smell lovely. Not as good as you though. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
“Why don’t you pop that bottle while I go put these in a vase?”
“All right.”
“How are we on time? How long until we need to be at the restaurant?”
“Half an hour. It’s not that far from here.” I open the champagne bottle with a loud pop—at least I didn’t screw this part up.
“We probably should call an Uber soon. You never know how long it’ll take to find a ride.”
I smile to myself, remembering her comment about punctuality. “I have one request for tonight.” I turn around, holding two flutes of champagne.
“And what is it?” She takes one.
“That you don’t stress about anything. Cheers.”
We clink our glasses together, and then, with our gazes locked, we take a sip of the champagne. I’m not particularly fond of it, but Jane said it was a must.
“Okay, I’ll try.” She takes another sip and then sets the glass down.
“You don’t like it?”
“I do. It’s not something I drink often though.”
Shit, Jane. I shouldn’t have listened to you.
I must have shown my disappointment on my face, as she’s quick to add. “I love that you thought about it though. Super romantic. You’re definitely trying to get lucky tonight.”
“Yep. But you know how men live in hope—”
“And die in despair,” she finishes for me.
We don’t speak for several beats, and I’m highly aware of the stupid smile I’m sporting now. The air between us crackles with electricity and sexual tension. It won’t take long until one of us caves to the pressure. My cock stirs in my pants, and I know it might be me tonight.
“So, where are we going?” she asks, breaking the silence.
“It’s a surprise.”
Her eyes twinkle with excitement. “I can’t wait.”
27
CHARLIE
Troy picked a small, intimate French restaurant located in an unpretentious open mall just twenty minutes from the house. The décor is rustic with a whimsical touch thanks to the exposed brick walls and twinkling lights hanging from them.
There’s no hostess; we’re greeted by the chef himself as we come through the door. He ushers us to our table in a flurry of excited comments.
“Monsieur Alexander. It’s so good to see you. Oh, and you brought a lovely mademoiselle tonight.”
“Yes. This is our first date.”
“Is that so? Oh, then you need our very best table. Come this way.”
Not long after we’re seated at a cozy table in the corner, our waiter comes with the menu. “Can I interest you in something to drink?” he asks.
“Would you like a cocktail first, or straight to wine?” Troy asks me.
I can’t answer. I’m too awestruck at the moment. “Hmm, I don’t know. Maybe just sparkling water for now.”
“Same,” he tells the waiter.
When he leaves, Troy turns his attention to me. “I have to ask you this because I feel like I’ve already messed up royally. What are your favorite drinks?”
“You didn’t mess up. The champagne was a nice touch.”
He narrows his eyes. “Was it though? You barely touched it.”