Naughty Neighbor - Lauren Runow Page 0,28
most decide they don’t want to spend that much even though the quality is superior than you’ll find elsewhere. So, they go to the corner store and get ones like these”—he looks at the bouquet as if the short-stemmed roses offended him—“which won’t last long. But you get what you pay for, right?”
I squint my eyes at Jake and tell him to cut the act and then look to Tommy, who doesn’t seem thrilled by Jake’s presence or his rhetoric.
“I think they’re beautiful and very sweet.” I smile at Tommy. “Thank you. Shall we go?”
“Sure.” Tommy turns away from Jake. “I hope you like the restaurant I chose.”
“I’m sure it’ll be great. I don’t get out much.” I reach for my purse.
He takes in my ensemble, eyeing me up and down, and lets out a whistle. “You should. You look amazing. Charisse played down your beauty for sure.”
Jake starts coughing, and we turn to see him putting his bouquet of lilacs in the center of my table.
“Lock the door before you leave?” I ask him as we step out of the apartment.
Jake walks us out and waves from my doorway. “You two have a great night. And don’t eat Brussels sprouts. They make you gassy. But get crazy with the garlic. It makes everything taste better.”
I ignore Jake as Tommy and I get in the elevator. I watch as the doors close on his proud-dad stance in the middle of the hallway, waving like he’s sending his kid off to prom.
We make our way to Tommy’s car, where he opens my door for me. I know it’s been years since I’ve been on a first date, but I don’t even think Michael ever did that for me. It makes me wonder if I’ve ever had one of my heroes open a door for his girl. I definitely should.
I sit in the passenger seat and see he has a garter belt hanging from his rearview mirror. I squint my eyes as I take in the white lace with a blue ribbon strung through it.
Tommy gets in the car, and when he starts it, music blasts the new Lady Gaga song through the speakers. To my surprise, he doesn’t turn it down. Instead, he nods at me with a grin as he backs out of the parking space and drives.
When we pull up to the restaurant, he puts the car in park and doesn’t say a word. He exits the car and jogs around to open my door. He puts his hand on the small of my back and leads me inside. The gesture should be simple, but his hand on my back is like a heavy weight. Instead of it feeling natural, it’s like I can’t do anything but want to cringe with his hand on me.
When we get inside, I step away from him.
“Okay then,” I hear him whisper under his breath.
The hostess greets us. “Reservations?”
“Yes, under Thomas Cosgrove. I reserved the corner booth.”
“Actually …” I interrupt the two of them and point toward the upscale bar area. It has cool blue mood lighting and a hip vibe. Plus, it’s not the corner booth. “Can we order from the bar?”
“Of course. I’ll set you up in there.”
The waitress leads us toward a high-top in the bar area. It’s not the actual bar, but it’s still a private table with high-back leather stools and ambient lighting. She hands us menus and says a waiter will be by shortly to take our drink order.
“So,” I start while he looks at the menu, “Melody says you’re an accountant.”
“Yes. I work for corporate accounts. When I was in college, there was a major hiring freeze in the country, so I did a search on the best jobs to get hired in, and voilà, I found my career. Everybody needs an accountant. Businesses, nonprofits, schools … you and me. It’s stable work, so don’t worry; I won’t be asking you to pay for dinner or front me rent money.”
I laugh at his joke because it’s the polite thing to do.
“Melody said you’re self-employed. I know it’s not something you discuss on a first date, but I’d be happy to look at your books and help you find ways to save money. Like, tonight for example. I’ll be writing it off as a business expense.”
I lift a brow. “Because we’re talking taxes, I’m a business meeting?”
He lifts his water glass. “See? Money saved. Order whatever you’d like.”
“You must also be very time efficient during tax season.”
He