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I order an Uber then throw on my clothes before giving myself a quick survey in my bedroom mirror. Not too bad, if I do say so myself. Another quick look at the time tells me I’ve only got ten minutes to make the twenty-minute trip. I forego waiting for the elevator and dash down the three flights of stairs to the lobby. Pushing through the front door, I’m pleased my ride is already waiting.
Sliding into the back seat, I smile at my driver. “Morning!”
She gives me a slight chin lift in acknowledgment, but that’s all I get. She’s obviously not a morning person, so I don’t bother trying to fill the silence that permeates the car. Nervous energy surges through me when my phone chimes with a text from Sam.
SAM ~I’m trying to decide if I’m being stood up or you’re just running late.~
Crap. He’s obviously one of those people who are never late. And I’m the complete opposite. It doesn’t matter how much time I give myself to get ready, I’m never on time. Except for work.
ME ~Sorry. I’m on my way . . .~
SAM ~Good. I’ll wait for you out front.~
My knee bounces as the next five minutes drag by incredibly slowly. And then we arrive, and I’m out of the car with a hurried, “Thanks,” to my driver as I slam the door.
Sam’s dressed in a pair of dark-wash jeans and a white V-neck T-shirt. I admire the fact that the slight stubble that coated his jaw the other night is now thicker as he stands outside the most luxurious apartment complex I’ve ever seen. And somehow, he’s even more devastatingly handsome in the daylight.
My heart rate spikes when I take him in, a dreamy little sigh slipping past my lips.
His eyes light as they rake over me from head to toe. “Wow, you look gorgeous.”
I blush. I know I wasn’t beaten with the ugly stick as a child, but hearing Sam say those words warms my insides. “Thank you,” I murmur as I take his offered elbow and he leads me inside.
We’re shown straight to a secluded table in the back, and I give Sam the eye. “Did you book this table before I arrived?”
“This ismytable. I have breakfast here almost daily.”
Rolling my eyes, I chuckle. “What, like youownthis table? What if someone else was seated here before you arrived? Would you make them move?”
An impish grin pulls his delicious lips to the side. “Actually, I own Zenith. Well, Tom and I do. And nobody else sits here but myself or Tom.”
I blink at him dumbly.Did he just say he owns this building?I take in our surroundings with new eyes. Holy. Shit.
“Now would be a great time for you to say something,” Sam says, nudging me with his foot under the table.
What am I meant to say? I thought he’d picked this place for the food, not because he lives here. Let alone that he owns this whole damn building. What do I do with that?
“Hannah,” he murmurs. “Is this okay? We can go somewhere else if you’re uncomfortable.”
Shifting in my seat, I lick my lips then look back to him. “I’ve made this awkward. I’m sorry.”
He shakes his head. “No, I should have picked a different restaurant.”
“This is fine, Sam—better than fine. I guess I wasn’t expecting you to, well, own it.”
“Is that a problem?” he asks, his vivid blue eyes searching mine.
Is it?Not really. It makes no difference to me if he has a bazillion dollars in his bank account. It’s not like we’re in this for the long haul. We’ll hang out for a couple of months, have some fun, then go our separate ways—if it even goes that far.
Smiling at him, I say, “Not at all. I guess you caught me off guard. I wasn’t expecting it, is all. Sorry for getting all weird on you.”
He tilts his chin, his gaze assessing. “You sure?”
I smile wider and shimmy forward in my seat before leaning my elbows on the table. “Of course. So, what’s good here? I’m starving.”
And just like that, the air of awkwardness I instigated evaporates, and we fall into comfortable small talk as we order our breakfast.
I can’t stop staringat her.
