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“It’s a surprise.” He gives me an enigmatic smile. I hate secrets.
Twenty minutes later, Paul approaches a no wake zone and slows the boat down. He maneuvers in between buoys and pulls up to a dock.
“We’re here,” Chase announces.
There is a dark Lincoln Town car waiting for us as we disembark. Chase gives me a mischievous grin. “We need a car for where we’re going,” he says twitching with excitement.
Oh.
?
?You’re not going to tell me,” I mutter petulantly.
“Nope.” He smiles. I don’t have a prayer.
Chase walks to the car and graciously opens the door for me. I slide in, and he closes the door. He walks around the back of the car and gets in beside me. He nods to the driver, and we’re off. “Can you at least tell me where we are?”
“Somewhere in the Hamptons.”
Ugh.
I’m not familiar with this end of the island. It’s where the rich and famous come to spend their summers, and I avoid the temptation to gawk like a tourist.
The roads are quiet and scenic. Quaint little towns, nestled in between 19th century homes, gives it a feel of being in the middle of nowhere. After driving for a bit, we slow down and pull up in front of a restaurant. “I’ll open your door,” he whispers. He slides out of the car and comes around to open my door.
The restaurant is amidst several other buildings, almost like a strip mall. I look up at the name. Bobby Van’s. Holy fuck. This is a very exclusive expensive restaurant in Bridgehampton that has been around since 1969. This is the type of restaurant that famous people come to. Very famous people. It was rumored that Truman Capote finished his novel In Cold Blood here.
“I am so underdressed.” Ooh, the sundress. “I have a sundress in my bag . . .” I trail off realizing that the bag is still on the boat.
“No, you look fantastic. It’s fine,” he reassures me. I stare up at the sign in pure panic. He must sense my reticence. “If you’re that uncomfortable, we can eat outside.”
I turn to look at him. His lips twitch into a sideways smile that makes me all warm and fuzzy. “Okay,” I acquiesce.
Within a minute of us standing out front, the maître d’ comes running out. “Mr. Remington, what a pleasure,” he gushes. He and Chase shake hands. “I have a private table waiting for you inside.”
“That won’t be necessary, Charles,” Chase says with authority. “We’ll dine outside today.”
“Excellent. Give me a moment to set up a table for you.” He runs inside and grabs a server. They both amass silverware and menus and set up a large table. It’s a gorgeous day, and I’m surprised there aren’t more people eating outside. Charles motions us over to the table.
Chase pulls my chair out for me. I smile shyly at him and sit. A waiter comes over to the table. “Can I offer you any beverages?” he asks sweetly. Chase looks at me.
“What would you like?”
“I could go for a glass of Sauvignon Blanc,” I reply. He nods in agreement, taking a look at the wine list.
“We’ll have a bottle of the 2010 Lail Vineyards Georgia Sauvignon Blanc and a bottle of Pellegrino please,” he says assertively. The waiter nods, and scurries back inside.
I am reeling. When I agreed to go for a boat ride, this was not what I expected. Here I am, sitting in Bridgehampton with all the rich people wearing their expensive clothing, in a tank top and denim shorts. I stare down at the menu not really reading it.
“You okay?” Chase asks, concerned.
“I wasn’t expecting to go to a renowned restaurant for lunch. I’m a little overwhelmed.”
“It’s not that big of a deal. Really, just relax.” He grabs my hands. He gazes at me for a minute, gauging my reaction. I sigh. I should suck it up and enjoy myself. It isn’t every day that I get to eat so well. I give him a weak smile.
“Good, that’s better.” He smiles. “Did you find anything you like on the menu?”
“There is a lot I like on the menu,” I profess.
