Second Dive (Kings of the Water #3) - Jasmin Miller Page 0,7
there first and for him to see me and walk right back out the door again.
This way—if Noah’s still as punctual as ever—he should already be in his seat, which will hopefully give me the advantage I need.
My screen lights up with a reminder of a waiting text message from Francesco.
Francesco: You’re fire on heels, baby girl. Don’t forget that. Go grab that gorgeous man by the nuts. Not literally, of course . . . unless you want to. More in the grab life by the balls. Text me when you’re done, or if you need backup. I’m expecting a full report. Love you.
I laugh when I see the parrot emoji at the end of the message. The one emoji that portrays him without any words as he likes to proclaim he’s as gay as a parrot. We’re all used to it, and it’s been a running joke in the family for years. But as so often, Francesco went above and beyond and actually turned it into the branding for his bar Parrot Lounge.
Cody: Checco’s getting out the parrot costume, but I’ll try to contain him. Sorry I wasn’t able to see you earlier, but he showed me the million pictures he took. You look beautiful.
Goodness, I love my uncles. Since Dad’s diagnosis, they stepped up so amazingly to become two solid rocks in my life. I doubt I could have gotten through the last twelve months without them.
After another deep inhale, I put my phone back in my purse, and pull back my shoulders as I walk toward the entrance of the restaurant.
Ready or not, here I come.
Four
Noah
Legs.
Tanned, toned legs.
They almost make up for my mysterious date being late.
Almost.
I need a moment before I deal with the rest of the woman. So I quell my curiosity and focus on the hostess instead.
The same hostess who’s aiming a bright smile at me like she just won an award for a stellar performance. “Your date has arrived.” Her cheeks redden when our gazes collide. “The server will be right with you.”
I tip my head down. “Thank you.”
With her smile still in place, she turns and heads back to her hostess station. My gaze stays on her for an extra moment, a weird sense of dread pooling in my stomach over facing my date. I’m not even sure why. Because I felt an odd connection to this mysterious woman?
At the same time, this is also the person who spent money on me so we could have this tonight. It’s still a strange feeling to go on a date that has been bought. Can it even be considered a real date under these circumstances?
Or I’m overthinking all this shit, my sister is right, and I’m just extra grumpy lately.
My date clears her voice. “I’m so sorry I’m late.”
Her voice.
It’s so eerily familiar that it throws me back in time for a moment, hitting me like a punch to the chest.
But it does the trick and snaps me out of my stupor, allowing my manners to kick in. I swiftly get up to pull out the chair for her, disappointed when I finally look at her and see a curtain of hair because she’s turned the other way to place her purse on the table.
“It’s no problem.” I push in the chair under her, looking at the back of her dark hair. It has a hint of purple to it. Interesting. Was it already purple last week when I saw her at the ball? I definitely remember it was dark but don’t recall any vibrant color like this.
My gaze wanders away from her hair to where I’m greeted with a stunning view of a toned back and a whole lot of exposed, smooth-looking skin.
Spending most of my time at the pool means I see a lot of skin, and barely ever notice it anymore, least of all get excited over it.
There’s definitely excitement going on at the moment though, but that could be because I haven’t seen any bedroom action in a while. And by a while, I mean in over a year.
After a silent threat to my libido to not embarrass me in a restaurant full of people, I sit back in my chair and catch my first real view of the woman across from me.
At this point, I’m feeling high on the anticipation of seeing her, like all this has been some weird form of foreplay between us.
Time screeches to a complete halt. Like “after a major pileup accident” complete halt.