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He has a boy next door air about him, although he’s five years older than me, so he’s definitely a man, not a boy.
“Thank you,” I respond. “You’re very good-looking.”
His smile brightens. “You just made my night.”
The server approaches to ask for our drink orders. I expect Lowell to order a bottle of wine, but he defers to me. “It’s the pretty lady’s choice tonight. I want her to pick her favorite.”
I don’t have a favorite wine. I usually sip a glass of the house red at Calvetti’s when Sinclair and I go there. Sometimes Marti brings us a bottle to share.
I point a finger at the menu under the list of red wines, even though I have no idea what I’m ordering. “This one, please.”
The server smiles. “Excellent choice.”
I hope it is. It was one of the least expensive bottles listed. I appreciate the fact that Clarice is paying for this dinner, so I don’t want to take advantage by indulging in anything I wouldn’t be able to afford on my own.
As he leaves the table, Lowell turns his attention back to me. “I thought we would talk about work tonight, but I think we should focus on what you like to do when you’re not at the office.”
I run my fingertip up the bridge of my nose. It’s a habitual move I do countless times a day to push my eyeglasses up. I drop my finger when I remember I put my contact lenses in before I left the apartment.
“You’re looking for these, aren’t you?” Lowell touches the frame of his glasses. “I didn’t realize you wore contacts.”
The corners of my lips quirk up. “I don’t wear them often.”
I won’t add that I usually only wear them for special occasions or when I’m exercising. I’ve never worn them to the office. At first, that was because staring at my laptop all day caused eye irritation. I have eye drops for that now, so my excuse is that they are part of my signature look at work.
I know that my co-workers call me Little Librarian and Geeky Grandma. I don’t mind since I’m the person most of them come to when they need advice on a work matter.
Leaning closer, Lowell lowers his voice. “We chatted on the app about some very personal things, Arietta. I just want to say that I feel honored that you trusted me with that.”
I gaze into his eyes. I never intended to tell Lowell about my experiences with intimacy. It just happened late one night when we started talking about our first times. None of my sexual encounters so far have been memorable since I’ve never had an orgasm with a man before.
“I’m not going to push you for anything,” he goes on. “I feel a connection to you that I’ve never felt with a woman before, so I want you to know that sitting this close to you right now is making me a little crazy. I’ll wait though. I’ll wait as long as it takes.”
I’m not as naïve as I look. I know that Lowell may be laying the charm on thick to get me into bed. Time will be the test as to whether that’s the case or not.
“Thank you, Lowell.”
“Let’s enjoy tonight.” He leans back in his chair. “I’m excited to get to know you better.”
The sound of an incoming email from Mr. Calvetti turns Lowell’s head to the left and then the right. “Did you just hear fingernails dragging over a chalkboard? Tell me I’m not crazy. You heard it too, right?”
Laughing, I slide my phone out of the beaded clutch I bought at Past Over last month. “I just got an email from my boss.”
Lowell joins in with a chuckle. “I take it he’s a jerk?”
I avoid answering the question by the quick and very effective trick of diversion. “I think it’s regarding an important client. I need to look at it.”
Lowell mumbles something to himself about needing to check his messages too.
As he does that, I skim my fingertip over my phone’s screen to open the email.
Subject: Today
Miss Voss,
I was remiss in not thanking you today.
The kindness that you displayed to Mrs. Blanchard was instrumental in securing our meeting with her this afternoon.
As Mr. Corning stated, when Mrs. Blanchard signs with our firm, you’ll be compensated for your role in that accordingly.
My apologies if this email is interrupting your date with Lowlife.
Signed,
Dominick Calvetti
I stare at the email. Lowlife?
Squinting, I read it again before I hit reply.
Subject: Re: Today
Mr. Calvetti,
You’re welcome.
As for my date’s name – it’s Lowell, not Lowlife.
Arietta
Before I can slip my phone back into the clutch, another email from Mr. Calvetti arrives.
Lowell’s head pops up. He taps the face of his watch. “You should tell your boss you’re off the clock.”
I sigh. “Give me one more minute, and I’m all yours.”
