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I couldn’t even really blame her. I’d pushed for the kiss to happen and it had still almost blown my fucking head off.
“Table for two, please,” I told the maitre d’. I was running late, but Ally tended to run even later so I felt safe in assuming I’d be snagging our table.
Normally, I would’ve placed a reservation, but this wasn’t supposed to be a date. Reservations screamed dates, according to Ally, so she’d wanted us to try our luck for a table. At one of the busiest restaurants in Crescent Cove on a Friday night at the start of summer.
Right.
“This way, sir,” the maitre d’ said, proving me wrong. Even as I followed the tall, severe-looking man in black, Ally’s voice echoed in my head.
Hamilton money buys tables. You don’t need a reservation. Watch.
“Did someone just leave?” I asked.
The maitre d’ shot me a cool smile. “On weekend nights, we’re booked solid all day and night. Your table, sir.” He gestured toward a secluded corner table with a lake view and candles flickering under glass domes.
“You know who I am then.” Why I needed the confirmation, I didn’t know. Maybe some part of me hoped Ally was wrong. She had to be wrong now and then.
It wasn’t as if I didn’t know my family’s influence in Crescent Cove. Of course I did. Hamilton Realty had been a fixture in the community since my grandfather was a young man. I was also a regular at the Sherman Inn. But I’d never seen this guy before in my life.
“Yes, sir.” He pulled out a chair and gestured. “Your server will be here in a moment with the wine list. Your companion’s name so I can direct her to your table?”
“Alison Lawrence. She should be here soon—”
“Right behind you,” she said cheerfully. “Got a table, huh?” she commented as I turned and tried not to swallow my tongue.
She wasn’t wearing anything special. Correction—she wasn’t wearing anything I hadn’t seen her in a hundred times before. She had on a pale yellow sundress with tiny purple flowers, cowboy boots, and a tight jean jacket, with her long hair flowing in every which direction and matted a little from the misty rain. It didn’t matter. She was simply stunning.
How hadn’t I noticed before?
“Miss,” the maitre d’ said, pulling out the chair opposite me while I stood and stared. Mutely.
Smooth, dude. Real smooth.
Ally shot me a sidelong glance as she skirted around me to slip into her seat. “Thank you.”
“Enjoy your meal.” The maitre d’ melted away and almost immediately, our server appeared.
I dropped into my chair and accepted the wine list, ordering a bottle of rosé for the table before my brain clicked back into gear.
Ally kicked me as soon as the server went to fulfill my request. “Hi there, remember me? I wanted a martini.”
“Since when?” Oh look, my lips could come unglued long enough to stick my foot between them.
“Since I felt like a damn martini. What is wrong with you?” She leaned forward and laid a hand on my forehead. “You’re flushed. Do you have a fever?”
“Some virus is running through Laurie’s class, so maybe.” I eased away from her hand and she picked up her napkin. Her touching me right now was not the best idea.
My cock thought it was awesome, but that part of me wasn’t known for its good judgment.
“And you left her with a babysitter just to come out with me?”
“She’s not sick,” I snapped irritably. “And I left her with her uncle. Oliver took her to the Faraday party so he doesn’t have to stay long.”
Ally paused midway through spreading her napkin on her lap. “He brought your little girl to a fancy work party? Why didn’t you go?”
“Because I’m having dinner with you.”
“Oh, right, because this is such an important event that you can’t miss it.”
