I have no idea what the hell she’s talking about, until Santos groans, “This isn’t one of your books, HJ.”
She rolls her eyes. “Iknow.” She mumbles into her hand, “Not that Wes Ellison couldn’t be on one of the covers.” Her gaze snaps to mine. “Not that you couldn’t, too, Jett.”
“Oh God, new topic, please.” I rub my hands along my face, and they both laugh. I shoot Wes a text.
Me:My colleagues are grilling me.
Wes:Aww, poor baby. I’ll make you feel
better later.
Me:One of them thinks we’re romance
book material.
Wes:Yes! My kinda people!
Me:See you later.
I finish the rest of my lunch with a stupid grin on my face and a flutter in my chest.
Wes couldn’t have chosen a better spot for a first date. The place looks a little bohemian-meets-eco-friendly chic. The restaurant is in College Hill, an urban area in South Eugene, pretty close to our apartment building. We walked here, holding hands the entire time, just enjoying the fall evening, talking about our day. It’s been unseasonably warm, so we’re just wearing light jackets.
The building itself is pretty basic, with a dark wooden front, charcoal slate roof, and large windows. Above the glass double doors hangs a large sign made of rusty iron that reads ‘Welcome to the Hillside Kitchen.’ The outdoor area is beautiful, with three graffiti-painted food carts offering a wide range of food, from Japanese to traditional Mexican to modern Indian fusion.
I squeeze Wes’ hand, excitement twirling in my stomach. “This is amazing.”
“Yeah? I know it’s a little busy, but I thought if we sit outside—”
“It’s perfect.” I take in the beach-like area with sandy flooring, casual lounge furniture, and brightly colored outdoor umbrellas. There’s an outdoor bar and soft Latino vibes spill from the speakers. There’s even a small dog bar with bowls of water.
I lean in and press a soft kiss against Wes’ cheek. “Thank you,” I murmur. His fresh scent envelops me. He nearly stole all the air out of my lungs earlier when he met me down in thelobby, his hair still damp from his shower, his light gray chinos clinging to his thighs like a second skin.
His eyes pool with fondness, the vibrant blue matching his shirt. “You’re welcome. And the food’s amazing here. Dennis and I used to come here a lot.”
“It looks great.”
“I got us a table outside.” He nudges my shoulder. “I’ll just let them know we’re here.” Wes jogs inside, and I can’t stop smiling as I ogle his tight ass. Shit, I can’t believe I get to be inside him later. My dick stirs, and I inhale deeply, focusing on my surroundings instead, my arousal lingering like a sweet hum underneath my skin. The outdoor area is busy but spacious, with plenty of room between the tables, making it cozy and intimate. Warmth fills my chest. He really wanted this to be special.
Wes returns with a server, who leads us to a secluded spot in the back, with tall palms and colorful lanterns hanging from an overhang. Instead of chairs, there’s a small lounge sofa perfect for two and a table made from different types of wood, with small tea candles lit. It’s all very romantic.
“I’m Jasmin,” the server says. “Welcome to the Hillside Kitchen.” She hands us both menus, then gestures toward the food carts. “Aside from what you see here, we also have a menu with different courses.” She leans in, smiling knowingly. “I prefer the carts, though. They’re really good.” Wes nods, then asks Jasmin about drinks. “Do you still have taps?”
“Yes, of course. We have over twenty different taps, mostly from local breweries, plus wine, cider, and kombucha. Whatever you want.”
Wes squeezes my thigh. “What do you want, babe?”
Babe.He keeps his hand on my thigh, and I love the feel of his solid presence. I relax into the soft cushions, then place my hand on top of his, weaving our fingers together. “I’ll try the kombucha,” I say.
“Great. We have lemon-ginger, pumpkin-spice, or mango.”
“The mango, please.”
“Sure.” Jasmin types on a tablet, then turns to Wes.
“I’ll have theHop Valley IPA.”
“Good choice.” She beams. “If you want to visit our food carts, then just go ahead. I’ll be back with your drinks.”
