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He sits down across from me. “It’s called Autumn in Washington Square. Beautiful isn’t it?” He is staring at me, and I’m not sure if he’s talking about the music or me. I flush at his intense gaze. He grabs a pair of tongs and places chicken onto my plate. He finishes serving and sits back down. He raises his wine glass. “Here’s to a beautiful evening with an even more beautiful woman.” Holy fuck. I am flushing crimson. I gulp down my wine and stare down at my plate.
Regaining my equilibrium, I start to eat. The food is delicious. Better than any French restaurant I’ve been to. “This is amazing. The best Chicken Francaise I have ever had.” The spinach is equally as good, with something in it I can’t put my finger on.
“Nutmeg,” he answers my unspoken thoughts. “A traditional béchamel sauce has nutmeg in it,” he says. “It’s one of those tastes you can’t quite make out when used in small quantities, but you would notice if it wasn’t there,” he says as if he were teaching a class.
“You are quite the accomplished chef,” I giggle. His smile takes my breath away.
“I could teach you, if you want to learn.” His gaze holds mine. I want to look away, but I’m caught. Like watching a car crash, I cannot look away. He cuts a piece of chicken and places it into his mouth, not relinquishing his stare. I blush scarlet and look down at my plate, pushing the spinach around. How does he make chewing so sexy?
“I’d like that.” My voice is soft, breathy.
“Please don’t hide from me. I want to look into those gorgeous green eyes.”
I look up at him. I’m still reeling from the events that took place this afternoon. How did I go from a sobbing mess to sitting here eating a peaceful dinner with this hot Adonis? I’m not sure what to make of what happened earlier. I shake my head and clear my thoughts. “Thank you for dinner. It’s lovely,” I murmur.
“You are quite welcome. It’s my pleasure.” He gets up from the table and starts to clear.
“Please, let me,” I say, hoping that cleaning up will take my mind off Evan.
“Not a chance. You are my guest. Besides, I have another surprise for you. Why don’t you take your wine and sit outside on the deck.” His lips twitch up into a half smile, like he’s hiding something.
“Okay,” I acquiesce. I grab my wine glass and start to head out on to the deck. He catches me before I get to the sliding glass door to top off my glass. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you are trying to get me drunk.” I smile at him.
He chuckles. “No, that wouldn’t be wise for what I have in mind.”
Oh my.
There is a faux bamboo patio set outside complete with couch, loveseat, and chair with an ottoman. I perch myself on the loveseat as it has the best views of the ocean. I take a sip of my wine, close my eyes, and take a deep breath. The ocean air is so calming. I feel at ease.
The sun has just started to set. Although we are on the south shore and the sun sets on the north shore, you can still see the glow from the beach. We would have a better view on the bay side and sometimes I’ll walk over to the ferry stand and watch the sunset.
Chase has his glass of wine, as well as the iPod. The house is set with surround sound speakers, including the deck. He chooses a song and hits play. Tony Bennett croons in the background along with a female voice I can’t place. He puts his glass of wine down on the table. “Dance with me.” He is standing in front of me with his hand extended. Waiting. He gazes at me with hooded eyes, and I can’t resist.
I take his hand, and he whisks me into his arms. We sway back and forth in time to the music. Chase is an amazing dancer and being with him makes me feel like I can dance, even though I have two left feet. He spins me one way and then back into his arms. I drape my arms around his neck and rest my forehead on his chest. His lips are so close to my ear, humming along with the music. Breathing the lyrics “I’ll always remember, that moon glow gave me you.” I get chills down my spine as his breath falls on my neck.
I look up at him. “You do have this uncanny way of making me forget about life,” I say. “Thank you. You really helped me today.”
“Anything for you,” he replies, caressing my cheek. “I hope that prick won’t give you any more trouble.”
“I just need time. I think you’re amazing . . .”
“But . . . ?” he interrupts still stoking my cheek.
Staring into those bright blue eyes I take a deep breath. “I need closure before I can move forward.”
He takes a step back. “Almost forgot. Your surprise awaits you in the kitchen. Come.” He turns and walks into the house. Wait, what?
Confused, I follow him into the kitchen. He’s holding a torch and browning two small bowls with what looks like custard inside. “You can’t end a French dinner without a French dessert. Have you ever had crème brûlée?” he asks.
I had once. It was delicious from what I remember. I don’t recall it looking like this though. “Yes, once I think,” I answer, still perplexed by what just happened.
He finishes browning the dessert and places them on plates. “Would you like to eat in here or outside?” he asks.
“Outside would be nice,” I reply. He grabs the two dishes, and I follow him out. After setting the two plates on the table, he returns into the house. He comes back out with two champagne flutes and a bottle of Veuve Clicquot La Grande Dame Brut 2004. Clicquot is one of my favorite champagnes.
“In keeping with the French theme,” he says. He places the bottle in
an ice bucket that’s hidden behind the table.
