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“Har-har.” Farrah flipped her hood up. “I’m from SoCal. I’m cold.”
“I’m from Texas and you don’t see me dressed like an Eskimo.”
“You’re a guy. Guys make terrible decisions.”
“That’s sexist.”
“Sue me.”
Blake grinned. Damn, he’d missed her.
“So where do you want to eat dinner, princess?”
She cut a glance his way but let the nickname slide. “Any chance you discovered a cool new restaurant around here?”
Hmm. He’d tried a bunch of restaurants, but none—wait. A slow grin spread across his face.
“Actually, I did. It’s not new, and it’s not around here, but you’ll love it. Come on!”
“Where are we going?” Farrah puffed as she jogged to keep up with him. Blake had a good seven inches on her; every step he took was the equivalent of two of hers.
“You’ll see.”
They climbed into one of the cabs idling outside the campus gates. Blake gave the address to the driver, who stepped on the gas in a sudden move that threw Blake and Farrah against the backseat.
“The least you can do is tell me what kind of cuisine it is,” Farrah said once they straightened themselves up. “Pretty please.”
“And ruin the surprise? No way.”
She pouted. “Fine. At least tell me whether the food is good.”
“I have no idea.”
“Blake!”
The driver slammed the brakes as they approached a red light. Everyone jerked forward.
Christ. This man’s driving was the reason they invented seat belts.
“How can you not know if the food is good or not?” Farrah clutched her chest. “Are you taking me to…an untested restaurant?”
Blake laughed. “Olivia’s spoiled you.”
“Say what you will, but the girl knows her restaurants. She’s never steered me wrong.”
“It’s not about the food. Trust me, you’ll love it.”
“It’s dinner. Of course it’s about the food.”
Blake smiled in response. He refused to succumb to Farrah’s pleas for more information. Instead, he distracted her with questions about Thailand, which she was more than happy to talk about. Other than what sounded like Courtney-Leo drama, the trip seemed like a blast, especially the Full Moon Party. Drinking on the beach, fire jump ropes, and bikini-clad girls (including Farrah) covered in body paint? Blake regretted staying behind.
They arrived at their destination. It was a well-known spot, just not amongst the college crowd. He doubted Farrah had heard of it.
The look on her face when the building came into sight proved him right.
“What is this place?” she breathed, her eyes wide with amazement as she took in the architectural marvel in front of her.
Tucked in the northwestern corner of the French Concession, the mansion resembled a Northern European storybook castle with its brown-tiled Gothic and Tudor steeples and spires. There were Chinese touches too, like the two stone lions guarding the front gate and Chinese-style glazed tiling along its roof. It was a radical departure from the colonial architecture that made up most of the French Concession.
