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Chapter Eight
Richard
I rang the doorbell, and for a moment thought I had the wrong address. Something about this place didn’t feel like Joyelle. Even the lingering perfume wasn’t what she’d worn the other night. That had been sweet like a flower. This was strong and reminded me of…mother.Definitely not who I want to be thinking of before taking a woman out for the night.
But when Joyelle answered the door, her sweet scent filled my nostrils and the only thing I could see was her mouth, curved into a smile in my direction.
“You’re right on time,” she said. “Did you want to come in?”
I had made a reservation at a restaurant in Providence. Did I really care if we never made it there? No. But she never got her meal last time. This time would be different. “Maybe for coffee later,” I said, standing in the doorway.
“Then let me get my purse.”
As she left me there, I was able to peer into the apartment. The décor was nice, but once again, it didn’t feel like her. Not that I expected it to look more rustic, per se, but she had talked a lot about her love of nature and this place reflected the total opposite.
When she returned, she asked, “Is everything okay?”
I nodded. “You have a nice place.” Did she wince, or was that my imagination?
“Thank you,” she replied softly, reddening at the neck.
Never thought paying her a compliment would shut her down like that. Watching what I say wasn’t in my playbook, but so far, I thought I’d been on my best behavior. I’d even resisted pulling her into my arms and asking her if she’d rather stay home and fuck instead of going to dinner. Even though my body begged, I wouldn’t give in. Tonight, my intention was to wine and dine her. Then I would drop her off at her door and leave. And drive home frustrated as hell.
The traffic to the restaurant reminded me of driving in Boston. Red lights and stop signs seemed to be a mere suggestion to the drivers. I looked over to Joyelle. She didn’t seem fazed at all.
“Do you come to Providence often?” I asked.
“Almost every day. A lot of my work is from here. Oh, sorry.”
“For what?” I asked, puzzled at her apology.
“Our rule about not discussing work.”
“Actually, I don’t mind at all. How was your day?” I asked, hoping to make her feel more comfortable. It worked. She started chatting about different cars she had to repossess today and how she had been lucky that no owners confronted her like the last time.
“Do you know that I don’t even know what you do?” she said just as we arrived at the restaurant.
“Since we’re here, maybe we can save that for next time,” I stated, shocked that I was committing to seeing her yet again. What the fuck is wrong with me?
“I’m going to hold you to it,” she said.
I leaned closer to her and said, “I always keep my word.”
She gazed into my eyes, then smiled and said, “Good to know, because I’m starving, and you promised me dinner.”
“Then I suggest we order prior to talking,” I joked. “Unless we’re having ice cream for dinner again tonight.”
As Joyelle got out of the car she added, “Sounds delicious, but my waistline won’t like it.”
My eyes roamed over her beautifully curvy figure. There were several comments I could make, but I was smart enough not to voice any of them.
Once we were seated and the waitress had taken our order Joyelle asked, “Have you heard back about your car?”
“My car?”
She laughed. “The Ferrari.”
“Oh, yes, the car. I told them to do whatever needed to be done. Should be completed within two weeks.”
