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I swiftly plant an innocent smile, pretending all is well and that I’m not, in fact, a stalker like my best friend just accused me of. When they finally turn their attention back to the line in frontof them, I let out an exhale and continue my conversation with Piper.
“Like I was saying, we are not stalking Nate. We’re just merely keeping a vigilant eye on him. Consider this more like a reconnaissance mission. We’re just going to assess Nate’s strengths and weaknesses throughout his date. This way, it will be easier to help him find his perfect match and get the damn press off his back once and for all.”
And hopefully, save his spot on the team in the process.
“And we’re going to do all that by stalking him… I mean,assessinghim while he’s out having dinner with some unsuspecting woman?” Piper asks curiously.
“Precisely.” I smile triumphantly, assured of my plan.
“Okay. Just putting it out there that I’m one hundred percent against this. But I am happy that you are finally on board with helping me clean Nathan’s image, at least. What changed?”
“What do you think?” I frown.
“Right. Last Saturday’s game,” she grumbles with a defeated slump on her shoulders. “What a fucking shitshow. Now you understand why I needed your help in the first place. Having said that, though I’m all for helping Wilder any way I can, if I hear him start putting whatever moves he thinks are sexy on his date, I can’t promise you I won’t barf up the expensive meal you’re about to buy me. I’m starved.”
“Noted.” I grin at my less-than-enthusiastic best friend.
When we finally reach the head of the line to the maître d’, I give him my name so that he can verify my reservation as well as the set requirements that come with it. It took a lot of maneuvering, but luckily, I was able to snag two reservations—one for me and one for Nate. Since the chef here is none other than my recent success story, Jaqueline Bordeaux, she was all too happy to help and guaranteed private booths, making sure that mine would be strategically hidden behind Nate’s. There area lot of moving parts in stalking… I mean, in helping Nate out, so I needed to ensure that everything was set up perfectly.
“This way, Madame,” the maître d’ says before ushering us into the busy restaurant. I keep my head down as we follow him to our seat, grateful that Nate is too focused on his food to look up and see us walking in his direction.
“The waiter will be with you shortly with the menu,” the maître d’ explains before leaving us.
I throw him a smile before leaning back into my seat, thankful that the restaurant isn’t too noisy to eavesdrop on the couple behind me. Unfortunately, a full five minutes go by without either one of them saying a word, making me wonder if my hearing is shot from attending the hockey game last weekend.
Ugh.
That damn hockey game.
Those Boston Guardians fans were vicious.
Even though Nate helped his team win the first game of the season over the Detroit Devils, the fans made it very clear that they were out for his blood. Anytime his stick so much as touched the puck, the whole arena booed him, shouting out all kinds of riling and mean slurs.
It hurts to watch.
I can only imagine what was going through Nate’s mind at the time.
A weaker person would have just quit there and then, but Nate gave it his all, almost like he wanted to prove a point. Prove to the fans that they could call him every name in the book, but they wouldn’t break him. I was in complete awe of how he carried himself in the game. Nate was adamant about showing the displeased crowd of fans that he was an incredible hockey player and that the team needed him. And from what I saw, theGuardians have him to thank for the win. Every score made by the team’s captain had Nate’s fingerprints all over it.
“Are they making out or something? I can’t hear anything,” Piper whispers, leaning over the table towards me.
“Shh,” I reprimand, trying to listen in on their conversation.
“Don’t shush me, and slide over,” Piper mutters, getting up from her seat to sit next to me.
It’s a little bit cramped, but we make do as we both lean our heads against the leather seat, hoping we might hear something. We still haven’t heard a peep from the couple on the other side when the waiter arrives with our menus.
“Just bring us two of today’s special,” I whisper to him before giving him time to go through the menu and pull our focus away from the booth beside us.
“And a bottle of Pinot Noir,” Piper adds just as softly.
The waiter’s forehead wrinkles in confusion, and he takes a peek over at the booth we are both trying to eavesdrop on. He then leans into us and whispers, “I think she’s about to break up with him. Either that or someone died.”
That doesn’t sound very promising.
Damn it.
I was sure Sheila was perfect for Nate. She’s a bit on the shy side but very sweet. So sweet, in fact, that I was positive she would overlook Nate’s nervous, off-the-cuff remarks and give him the benefit of the doubt. But it looks like bringing two introverts together might have been the wrong choice on my part. Sounds like neither one is in a hurry to make small talk, which doesn’t bode well for the chances of a second date.
