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CHAPTER 15
It’s Friday. Dean went home right after Monday’s elimination. But he’ll come back for tonight’s Best Wishes dinner at the Hippa Club, an upscale restaurant right on Vanderbilt Beach in Naples. I’ve only ever heard of this place, and it’s every bit as described.
Dimly lit and modern, it’s the definition of sophistication. The only indications that it’s a beach restaurant are the waves carved out of polished steel that cover the walls, and of course, the ocean itself is visible through one of the walls made entirely of glass.
I open my menu and nearly choke on my edamame when I see the prices. While I feel out of place, Liz is completely at home.
“Come here often?” I ask her jokingly.
“Once or twice a week,” she says coolly.
“Oh. I was joking.”
Three long tables have been set up on one end of the establishment, covered in silvery linen, and set with little white plates and sparkling glasses. With me today is Liz. Reese tried her best, but she could not get her assignment done in time. She protested, but I made her stay.
Dean’s parents are here tonight. They are sitting beside him at the far end of my table. Julie, Tony, and our now returned Sarah, and their families are dispersed, as well as two reporters from the local paper.
Dean was already seated when Liz and I got here. At first I thought it was a good thing that I was seated on the same side as he was, making it impossible to see him unless I made an obvious effort. Now, however, I am so much more aware of him that I could ever have been if he’d been sitting right in front of me.
Every once in a while, I see his hand through my peripheral vision. Once, when Liz and his parents had somehow aligned perfectly, and by sheer coincidence I turned his way, I got a good look at him. And damn did he look good, his crisp white button up shirt hugging his form and accentuating his sun kissed skin.
Liz orders for me because I can’t make sense of half the shit on the menu anyway. I make a specific request that it not be brains, organs, mouth parts, or bugs. She got me the frog legs.
“They taste like chicken,” she tells me.
“Or is it that chicken tastes like frog legs?” I ask, waggling my brows.
They don’t taste like chicken, although they do feel like they might hop out of my throat. It’s especially bad when I hear Dean’s laughter, and I know it has nothing to do with me.
What am I doing to myself? A guy has never gotten under my skin like this. It’s not something that I consciously avoid. It just doesn’t happen. Why should I care what Dean has done? I’ve made it clear a relationship is not on the cards.
It’s no business of mine, yet it’s all I’ve thought about since I found out. If I thought the last few days were bad, knowing he’s a few chairs away is utter hell.
Finding my slimy friend suddenly unappetizing, I throw the napkin over it.
“I gotta get some fresh air,” I whisper to Liz.
“Okay. You want me to come with you?”
“No. I need space.”
Dean’s eyes follow me out, giving me a feeling of déjà vu. I wonder if he’ll follow me out the way he did the night we met. The mere thought sets my heart at a rapid pace. Not that I want him to, but just in case, I stay near the door where I’d be easily found.
Soon enough nature’s serenity calms me as I stand facing the water. A gentle breeze blows through my hair, and ruffles the skirt of my white lace halter dress. Not a cloud hovers in the night sky. The moon hangs low over the Gulf of Mexico, giving it a certain quality that makes it look more like a painting than real life. It’s quiet out here, but for the distant chatter of the diners within.
My hand goes automatically to the beaded bracelet, only to find it gone. In the short time I wore it, it somehow became a source of reassurance. A sigh escapes me as I think of it sitting on my nightstand.
The doors behind me open, and I stop breathing thinking Dean has indeed followed me out.
“You can barely hear the waves.” The woman’s voice startles me, making me jump. She laughs warmly, placing her hand on my shoulder. “Please forgive me. I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay. I was deep in thought, so a snail walking by would have frightened me. You’re Mrs. Cooper, right?” I ask.
“Please call me Marissa. And you are Catherine.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Dean’s told me a lot about you.”
