Okay, I’m officially stressed. It’s been twenty minutes since we left Driscoll, and we’re on the highway, and still haven’t reached our destination. After another five minutes, he finally takes an exit and guides us to the historic four corners of Kingston.
Interesting. A Wednesday night in Kingston.
There’s not much to do in this area on a Wednesday night except have dinner. I check the time on the car and see that it’s after eight thirty p.m. Okay,nowthere’s nothing left to do.
“As much as I like this area, there isn’t anything open.”
I look over at him, and he smirks, remaining quiet.
Seven minutes later, I’m being led into a small, elegant hotel.
“Okay, now I really need to know where we’re going,” I tell Grayson in a whisper.
“Just trust me,” he whispers back and smiles at the woman at the reception desk.
Grayson rounds a corner where the snacks are for hotel guests, and a man stands behind the counter. He hands his ID to the man, who nods and smiles at me.
“ID, please.”
Confusion washes over me, and I glance at Grayson for an answer. He offers me anothertrust melook.
Screw it. I’ve come this far.Fishing through my hand purse, which I always carry in my bigger purses, I hand the stranger my ID, still confused about what’s happening, when all I see are a fridge, a pantry, and a small bookcase.
“This way, please.” The man moves to the bookcase and wraps a hand around its edge, pulling until it opens like a door. My eyes widen as I see a staircase that leads to a place where they’re playing slow jazz music. “Have a great night,” the kind man says from behind us as Grayson takes the first step and offers me his hand to help me down.
Too shocked at what I’m seeing, I grab a hold of his palm and follow him down the wooden stairs to a dimly lit area with booths, a gorgeous long bar, and a small stage that’s currently empty.
What. The. Fuck.
“The band only comes from Thursday to Saturday,” Grayson answers one of my many unasked questions.
“Table for two, Mr. Hayes?” a woman says from beside us, and I jump a bit at the sound.
“Yes, the booth in the back if it’s free,” Grayson responds, and I do a double take.
Is he a regular?
As we head toward the back, I pay attention to the customers and see that most of them look to be in their late twenties to mid-fifties, all dressed very nicely. It’s a good thing I wore this dress today, or I would have felt very out of place. Something tells me the professor wouldn’t have chosen this location if I had worn jeans this morning.
We reach the booth in the back where the music is low, and there are only couches nearby, with an older couple sitting on one.
Our booth is round and comfortably fits three people, but we each take a seat across from the other.
The hostess gives us two menus and smiles before she leaves.
My eyes scan the place once more before I turn my wide gaze back to Grayson. He’s flipping through the small menu as if he didn’t just bring me to a secluded and unknown place.
“Uh, Grayson?”
“Hmm?” He continues to look down at the damn menu.
“What is this place? How do you know about it? And why did you bring me here?” I ask impatiently.
He pauses before closing the menu, and asks, “Are you hungry?” My mouth falls open.Am I hungry?“I’ll take that as a yes. Do you want anything to drink?” My jaw shuts, and I narrow my eyes at him. “I’ll order something for the table then.” His hand goes up, and he smiles at whoever is coming.
“Mr. Hayes. What can I get you and your date tonight?”
Now that makes my head turn to the waiter.
