She puts the boots down, and gives me her full attention. “What’s up?”
“Can you please do my hair and give me those sexy loose curls that you do so well? You know, the one’s that will make him visualize fisting my hair in his hand and giving it a nice pull,” I say with a wink.
“Absolutely,” she says deviously.
Three hours later, I’m dressed and ready. I feel confident and sexy, but my nerves have spiked with anticipation. When was the last time I went out on a date? My palms are clammy and my heart is in my throat. I made sure to load up good on the deodorant, figuring that my palms wouldn’t be the only thing sweating.
My hair is curled to perfection and pinned back on one side. The chandelier earrings look great with the outfit, and after applying and reapplying my makeup fifteen trillion times, I finally settled on a dark charcoal eye shadow. It gives my eyes a smokey, heated look. Now if I could only stop sweating. Ugh, I hate dating. Why the hell did I agree to this?
“You look gorgeous, Mia. Stop fidgeting so much,” Raven scolds, running her fingers through my curls. She’s putting the finishing touches on me.
“I can’t help it. I’m nervous.”
“He’s going to be here any minute. Pull it together. The last thing you want is to look like Ben Stiller when he went on that dinner date with Jennifer Aniston in Along Came Polly. That was just gross.”
Great. That’s a visual I didn’t need in my head. A very sweaty Ben Stiller with irritable bowel syndrome who later practically shits himself to death at her place afterwards. Awesome.
I jog out of the bathroom and into the kitchen to try and kill my anxiety, but it’s no use. I’m a nervous wreck. If I weren’t so concerned about sweating, I’d break out into a full-on workout to help calm me down. I open the freezer and lift my arms up to air out my pits, representing the epitome of class and sexiness in the name of every woman out there. Just when I feel like I’m getting my nerves under control, there’s a knock at the door.
Oh, God, he’s here. How did he get past the gate? Do I look sexy? I’m not sure I feel sexy anymore. Will he think I’m sexy? Maybe his version of sexy and mine are totally different. What if he tries to kiss me tonight? Do I want to be kissed? I don’t want to come off too easy. What if the only reason he’s interested in me is because he thinks I’m easy? Oh, fuck off, Mia!
I briskly close the freezer door and block out the incessant rambling. Raven emerges from the hallway and gives me an excited, two thumbs up.
“Ready?” she mouths.
I take a deep, calming breath and nod.
She peeks through the peephole and opens the door.
“Hey, Raven,” I hear him say.
“Hey, yourself,” she greets.
She gives him a swift hug and then moves aside to let him in the apartment. He steps inside and a gorgeous bouquet of deep red calla lilies capture my attention. He bought me flowers? The thought warms my heart, (and sadly) makes me giddy, too.
Chase is dressed in black dress pants, black dress shoes, and a royal blue button-down that’s rolled up to his elbows. The color in his tattoos pop against the shirt, as I’m sure his eyes would if he weren’t wearing my Aviators. I suddenly feel underdressed. Shit, so much for playing it safe. He looks ruggedly handsome with some scruff on his face and his tats on display.
“Here, I can take those,” Raven offers, motioning to the flowers. Chase doesn’t catch her offer, or if he does, he isn’t acknowledging it. He’s too busy staring straight at me. He tilts my sunglasses just below his eyes and his gaze sweeps my body from head to toe. His attention makes me nervous. My hands are getting clammy again.
Impatient, Raven takes the flowers and makes her way past me. I hear her grab a vase from the cupboard and turn on the faucet.
Chase saunters towards me until there’s less than a foot between his body and mine. He lifts my sunglasses onto his head and holds me with his gaze. The intensity in his eyes makes me feel uneasy, yet I can’t look away from him. I wouldn’t dare. I don’t know if I’ll get beyond the first date, so I’m going to bask in this feeling and make it last.
“You look absolutely stunning,” he praises, only amplifying that feeling.
“I feel underdressed,” I blurt out.
I internally face-palm myself. Way to ruin the moment, Mia.
His lips curve up into a slow smile, making my heart skip a beat or two. “You aren’t,” he assures me. “I overdid it on purpose because I want you to feel special tonight—but only tonight. This shit wears off tomorrow,” he jokes.
Thank God. That comment completely puts me at ease.
“Shall we?” he offers his hand. I spontaneously feel heat simmering between my thighs when I take it. I really hope he doesn’t notice my sweaty palms. If he does, he graciously chooses not to say anything about it. That would be a little too much embarrassment for me to handle. We say our goodbyes to Raven and head out the door.
“Have her back by eleven!” she yells after us.
Laughing, we make our down to his car. When he leads me to a black Mustang, I abruptly stop walking, forcing him to stop right along with me.
“That’s your car?” I ask in disbelief.
“Yeah, why?”
“You drive a Mustang?”
“Yes,” he says cautiously.
I turn to look at him. “I’m impressed.”
He looks pleased. “Thank you. That’s a true compliment coming from you.”
He walks me the rest of the way, stopping on the passenger’s side to open my door. I slide in and meet the warm leather; my body immediately sticks to the seat. He walks around to his side and climbs in. The engine roars to life, and before I’ve even managed to get my seatbelt on, we’re off.
“So where are we headed?” I ask curiously.
“To one of my favorite restaurants. They serve really good Mediterranean food and they have a nice patio and bar area. I hope you’re okay with that.”
“Sounds delicious.”
He looks young and edgy as he shifts the car into gear, taking the on-ramp. He has one hand placed on the steering wheel and he’s wearing my sunglasses again. There’s a little bit of sunlight left, but it’s quickly fading. The sky is filled with vivid shades of fuchsia, red, and light purple. All of the colors look like they’re melting together. It looks like something you’d see in a Monet.
“Thank you for the flowers, by the way. They’re beautiful.”
“This is the part where I’m supposed to pull out a cheesy line and tell you that you are far more beautiful, huh?”
“No,” I say adamantly. “Don’t ever say something you don’t mean. Just be real and genuine. I’ll value your honesty far more than any compliment you could sling my way.”
I think about that statement and then realize it’s only a half-truth. “Now having said that, if you feel the need to give me a compliment, I’m not opposed to that either.” I tease.
He laughs. “Well, in that case, you are far more beautiful than those flowers...but they smell better.
I let out a hearty laugh.
He grins. “What? You think I’m joking?” he asks, all serious. He looks back and forth between the road and me.
That makes me laugh even harder. I’ve never met anyone so charming and so blatantly offensive at the same time. It’s truly a gift—the way he can work both traits to his advantage. He boldly reaches over and uses the backs of his knuckles to lightly brush my cheek. My breath catches and I instantly stop laughing. I can sense a shift in the air. Suddenly, this car feels a hell of a lot smaller. He proceeds to run a single finger down the side of my neck and over my bare shoulder, making me shiver involuntarily.
“This is an incredibly sexy look on you.”
I clear my throat, feeling slightly self-conscious, but more turned on than anything else.
“Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself.”
“Good to know.” He pinches my side playfully, making me jump. He’s just found my ticklish spot,
and based on his smug smile, he knows it.
I try to distract myself from the sexual tension by looking out the window and enjoying the view. I love how the weather is warm and the trees are still green in October. I glance at all of the overpasses that used to be intimidating. I think about how my life has changed so drastically in just a few days. Last week, I was living in the same small town I’d always known, and working the same two jobs with the same small community of people, just traveling through life, day in and day out.
Now, I’ve moved onto a much bigger city that I’ve only visited a handful of times, and where I know virtually no one, I mean, other than Raven and Eric, I have no one else. The thought is both scary and invigorating.
I sneak a peek at Chase again, and think about how nice it is to sit here, silently. I don’t feel pressured to carry on a conversation. I’m sure with any other first date, this would be awkward. But with him, it feels natural, comfortable. I feel like I can be myself and not worry about presenting some unrealistic, “acceptable” version of who I am.
When we arrive at Fino, Chase walks around the vehicle to open my door. I step out, and he gently places his hand on the middle of my back, leading me inside. The gesture makes me feel exceptional. I have to bite my lip to keep a huge smile from breaking out onto my face. The last thing I want is to look like some overeager, love struck teenager.
We’re instantly greeted by the hostess and we follow her to a cozy table for two. The restaurant has a welcoming, romantic feel to it with its earthy color tones. We take our seats, grab the menus, and start surveying our options.
“I take it you’ve never been here before?” Chase asks.
I shake my head in response.
“Well, I hope you like it. Order whatever you want. If you want any suggestions, just let me know.”
“I will. Thank you.”
When the server comes up to our table, Chase orders a beer and I choose to stick with water.
“You sure you don’t want a drink?” he checks.
“No, I had more than my fair share of beer and ice cream this past weekend.”
“Beer and ice cream, huh? Sounds like the breakfast of champions.”
“Oh, it was, believe me. And lunch. And dinner.”
“Now that’s a real woman—someone who can actually eat a meal and enjoy something more than a salad. I fully support your healthy eating habits,” he winks.
My entire face flushes, and I turn my attention back to the menu. I wish I’d remembered to bring a pair of sunglasses, because, my God, if this isn’t a sunglasses moment, I don’t know what is. Don’t be awkward and weird, Mia. He’ll sense it.
When our waiter returns with our drinks, we order dinner. I end up going with the pan-seared salmon and Chase orders the Pacific Gulf shrimp. We hand the menus back and Chase folds his arms over the table, focusing his attention on me. He’s about to start the classic getting-to-know-you inquisition.
“How’s Austin treating you so far?”
I smile, relieved. “I love it. It’s so nice to be back. Only this time, I get to stay.”
“So you’re staying here indefinitely, then?”
“Yeah, for now. I have nowhere else to go. I have some money saved up, but not enough to make it on my own, unfortunately.”
“You don’t like sharing a place with Raven?”.
“No, it’s not that. I just don’t like having to depend on other people when I’ve been taking care of myself for so long. In a way, moving down here is taking a step backwards. I had to swallow some pride, which I hate doing.”
“Me too,” he agrees. “If you don’t mind me asking, why’d you leave home?”
I suck in a sharp breath and try to think of a way to skirt around the issue.
“Um, my mom and I haven’t been getting along too well these days. We kinda had a tiny argument, and she needed a little space. So I packed my bags, and drove ten hours to give her that space, so she could think long and hard about her actions. She’d tell you that I’m being dramatic, but I choose to think of myself as an over-achieving daughter.” I joke.
“Life’s all about perspective,” he says instantly.
I giggle and feel some of the tension leave my body.
I fold my hands over the table and scoot forward. “Enough about me, what’s your family like? Do have any siblings?”
He leans back in his chair and relaxes. “I do. I have an older sister. She and I are extremely close when she isn’t blowing up my phone and bugging the hell out of me on a daily basis. She’s twenty-eight—two years older than me—and she lives with her husband in North Austin. What about you? Any siblings?”
I shake my head. “Nope, I’m your stereotypical only child who hates to share.
He leans forward again, keeping his eyes trained on mine. “Can I tell you a secret? I’m glad you don’t like to share, because I don’t either.”
Holy shit. Is it hot in here, or is it just me?
“What about your parents?” I quickly ask, throwing the spotlight back on him.
“My dad owns a furniture making company and my mom teaches the fourth grade at a local elementary school. They’re both still happily married.”
“That’s awesome. I admire couples who can stay happily married for that long.”
“Are your parents divorced?”
“Yeah, they divorced when I was little and my dad moved down here a few years after that. Neither one of them ever remarried, though. My dad passed away a couple years ago, and it’s been my mom and I ever since.”
“I’m really sorry about your dad,” he says sincerely. “What happened?”
“He died in a car accident on his way home from work one night. Drunk driver,” I mutter dejectedly.
This is a sore spot. I don’t like to talk about my dad. The fact that his death was caused by a drunk driver, and my mother is a raging alcoholic, only pours salt into the wound. Even though she was having problems long before he died, I only grew to resent her more after he was killed. If she wasn’t so selfish, my father would have never left her and moved here. He’d probably still be alive, and I would’ve had a chance at a normal childhood. But then, a part of me feels incredibly guilty for feeling that way about my own mom. It’s so emotionally draining to love a parent with all your heart, and yet, completely despise them for who they are. It’s a vicious cycle, taking its toll, slowly gnawing away at you like a chronic illness.
Thankfully, the food arrives in perfect time. Everything smells delicious and is cooked to perfection. We dig in. I love seafood because it fills you up, but not to the point where you are stuffed and can’t move. It’s a comfortable kind of filling.
“How does everything taste?” he asks.
“Absolutely delicious. Want some?” I offer.
He shakes his head. “No, thank you. You?”
“Yeah, actually I’ll try a bite if you’re willing to share.”
“No way. I was only trying to be polite,” he deadpans.
I lean forward, set my forearm on the table, and lower my voice a couple of notches. “Give me a bite of that shrimp, you dirty whore.”
He laughs. “Oh, really? You want some of this, do you?” The way he says that, it’s hard to tell whether he means the shrimp or himself.
I narrow my eyes and sit back. “You know, on second thought, I changed my mind. It doesn’t really look all that appetizing, after all.”
His eyes darken and simmer, releasing a hunger that makes him look dangerous. He’s challenging me, daring me. I feel my body warm up in response, the temperature only getting hotter the longer we stare. I break eye contact and reach for my glass of ice water. I take a few gulps to try and cool myself down from the inside out. I close my thighs together to try and relieve some of the pressure down there—a feeble attempt. Instead, I try to refocus all my attention on my dinner, avoiding his hypnotic gaze like the plague. At this rate, it’s going to be a long night.
SIX
c h a s e
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I’m rock hard under the table. Jesus Christ. I’m in a restaurant, on a date with a beautiful woman, having good conversation, but all I can seem to think about is bending her over this table and fucking her until she can’t see straight. She wants it bad, too. I can see it in her eyes. She’s looking at me like she wants me to ravage her sexy body, right here, right now.
Get it under control, Chase.
I practically inhale my food and signal for our check so we can get the hell out of here. I need to cool down. There’s somewhere I want to take her after this, and for once, the backseat of my car is not what I have in mind. I sign the receipt, leave a generous tip, and waste no time leaving.
“Where are we going?” she asks, once we’ve made it to the car.
“It’s a surprise. Just relax and enjoy the ride.”
I drive us into downtown with the windows down. It’s gotten a little cooler out, but I think it’s safe to assume the breeze feels nice for both of us. Many of the restaurants and bars are lit up with Christmas lights, making the drive that much more enjoyable. This is an Austin thing. They leave up lights all year ’round. Unless you live here, you really wouldn’t understand how appropriate of a thing that is to do for Austin’s vibe. We pass multiple food carts that serve some of the most amazing hangover food you’ll ever eat, and I mentally make a note to bring Mia here soon.
Fifteen minutes later, we reach our destination. I turn off the car, grab the cooler from the back seat, and step out. She follows. When she closes the door, I shoot her a nervous glance over the top of my car. I hope she likes what I have planned.
“Mini-golf?” she asks, amused.
“Damn right, mini-golf,” I defend.
“What’s in the cooler?”
“Beer. It’s BYOB. No better way to have some fun, than to drink booze and get your ass kicked in a round of mini-golf. See how that works?”
She shakes her head and smiles. “You know, you continue to surprise me. I thought I had you figured out, but apparently not.”
“Good. Keep trying to figure me out. It’s far more entertaining when you’re wrong. Plus, mystery keeps romance alive, and I plan on having this thing between us go on for a little while longer, like, maybe another week or two.”
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