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“Wow,” is all I can mutter. I knew about the law school part, but I never knew he went to private school.
“Yeah, my dad was pretentious.”
“Did you like Harvard?” I ask between sips.
“It was interesting,” he murmurs. “It was like a giant pissing contest to see who could get the best grades. The better your grades, the better your chances of interning at a big law firm. I didn’t need to showboat. I knew where I was going.” He gives me a sly wink.
The blonde hostess comes over to announce our table is ready. Chase nods and moves to grab the bottle of wine, but the pretty bartender reaches for it at the same time and their hands touch. She blushes. He smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “No, let me,” she says, her voice breathy. Chase shrugs and takes my hand. Grabbing the bottle and a marble wine chiller, she follows us to our table. Chase is totally oblivious to her charms, causing me to inwardly smile.
The hostess brings us to a small corner table near the back of the restaurant. Chase and I sit next to each other and the flirty bartender places the wine chiller directly in front of Chase. “Do you need anything else?” she asks.
“No, I think we’re good here,” he answers, placing his hand on my thigh. She gives a half smile and nods, then goes back behind the bar with her tail between her legs. “What are you in the mood for this evening,”Chase asks, turning to me, his eyes filled with mischief. Lifting my brow at him for a moment, I ignore his innuendo and look down at the menu.
“I need to look at the menu first,” I say into the pages, a ghost of a smile appearing on my lips. He strums the inside of my thigh, making me twitch.
“We’ll, I know what I want,” he hums, stroking slow and steady. Looking up from my menu, my eyes meet his. His eyes, sparkling like storm clouds right before lightning strikes, are dilated and fixed on me.
“How is the halibut?” I squeak, barely able to speak.
With a sly smirk, he shakes his head and chuckles. “Very good, but you need to try the lobster tango mango.”
“Is that what you are having?” I ask, still flustered.
“Yes.”
“Well, then, I’ll just have some of yours.” I peek up over my menu through my lashes and give him a mischievous smile. His lips twitch, trying to hide the smile that’s buried there.
“We’ll see about that,” he quips, caving in and smiling wide. I love this playful side of his, how could I not? He has the most amazing smile. His eyes get this bright blue and he has a dimple that pops out—it’s adorable.
We place our menus at the edge of the table and a tall waiter walks over a few moments later. “Good evening,” he says, looking at me. “My name is Brayden, I’ll be your server. Are you ready to order?” he asks, smiling.
“I believe we are,” Chase answers. “Ladies first,” he concedes.
“I’ll try the halibut,” I murmur.
“Great choice,” Brayden says with a smile. Chase squeezes my thigh lightly.
“I’ll have the lobster mango tango,” he says, his tone clipped. Brayden writes the order down, nods, and walks away. Chase scoots a little closer, takes his hand off my thigh, and places it on top of my hand on the table. I chuckle and take a sip of my wine.
“What’s so funny?” Chase whispers, slightly affronted, making me giggle even more.
“Nothing,” I say innocently.
“Really?” he mouths at me. I give him a great big smile. He shakes his head and picks up the bottle of wine to top us off. “So, since this is apparently a confessional, what else do you want to know?” he asks.
“It’s just . . .” I stutter, “we really don’t know each other.”
“What’s to know?”
“I don’t know. Like, what is your favorite color?”
“Green.”
“Mine, too,” I say, smiling. “What about your favorite food? You already know mine.” He chuckles and I think back to that perfect dinner at Davis. Chicken Francaise and creamed spinach topped with Crème Brûlée.
“Yeah, thank the Lord for Brenda,” he says, smiling wide.
“I knew she was involved, clever minx.”
