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Since Kirby is scheduled to spend the night with Chesca, it’ll afford me more time with Carrie. I want to finish the discussion we started. I want her to hand over her list of rules so I can comply with all of them and take her to bed.
Her response takes less than a minute to pop up on my screen.
Carrie: Dinner sounds good, but can we eat out?
I’d like to do nothing more than eat her out, but that’s not what she’s talking about, and if she needs to be in a public setting to discuss this very personal matter, I’ll give her that.
Rook: I’ll make a reservation for eight at Atlas 22. Does that work for you?
The seafood restaurant in the West Village has never failed me, and I know I can always score a reservation since the manager is a former client.
Carrie’s response comes as swiftly as I expect it to.
Carrie: That works for me. I’ll meet you there.
I’m tempted to close out this text conversation by tapping out, ‘It’s a date,’ but I don’t. I don’t want to scare her off, so I end it in a way I hope will put a smile on her beautiful face.
Rook: I’ll be the tall guy in the good suit.
I pass Kirby’s room on the way to mine so I can shower before I sit down in my home office to devote a couple of hours to work that I didn’t get to today.
I hold in a chuckle when I read the response to my last text.
Carrie: I’ll be the one in the green dress. You can’t miss me.
She’s wrong about that. Since I left her at the bar this afternoon, I have missed her. I don’t know how the fuck to explain it, but I like being around her. Tomorrow night can’t come soon enough.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Carrie
I seriously considered wearing the green dress to this dinner. That would be the green dress I wore to my sister’s wedding, but it seemed like overkill so I opted for another green dress that has been living in the back of my closet for the past few years.
It sports a modest neckline, and the bottom hem hits right above my knees. What I absolutely love about this dress is the thin black leather belt that sits at just the right spot on my waist. The entire look shows off my hourglass figure. I may not have loved my curves when I was younger, but I adore them now.
I went to Brooklyn after work to grab the dress before going to Abby’s to get ready. I’m stepping into Atlas 22 at fifteen minutes to eight. I’m early. That’s almost always the case with me. It’s another of my character traits that I treasure.
It seems that I share an inclination for promptness with Rook. I spot him sitting at the bar, wearing a dark gray suit.
I take a moment to study his profile.
I first saw him in a photo on the Thorsen & Associates website. That was shortly after Abby started working there. Once I saw how drop-dead gorgeous he was, I went on a hunt on social media to track down every tidbit of information I could find about him.
It didn’t take long for me to realize that he was in a relationship with Chesca Mills, and they shared a daughter. I admit I was disappointed, but as the months passed, I’d check out his socials occasionally, and always see the joy in his face when he was with his daughter.
His gaze wanders to the entrance to the restaurant, and I know the instant he spots me.
His left eyebrow cocks, and his lips glide into an easy smile.
Damn. He’s a gorgeous man.
He leaves his half-filled tumbler of what looks like whiskey behind on the bar as he stalks toward me.
Heads turn because how can anyone not look at him?
“Carrie,” he greets me with an open-mouthed smile as soon as he’s near enough that I can hear him. “You look beautiful.”
I’d say the same to him, but I revise it a touch. “Thank you. You look good, too.”
