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Did I just agree to go on a date withHot Bartender Guyseconds after Aleck’s erection was grinding into my center?
And I’m no kinesics expert, but Aleck seemed pissed. Did I just screw up?
Jane Austen, help me!
SIXTEEN
WINTER
The rest of the day, Aleck and I moved around each other like water and oil. Sharing a space, yet unable to mix. Repelling each other before a word was spoken. I walked into a room, and he walked out.
I heard him leave his bedroom and decided enough was enough, so I left my room to talk to him. I came out of the hallway in time to see the suite door closing behind him when he left.
When he came back an hour later, I was at the island eating lunch. He was on a phone call, so I waited, smiling at him, hoping he would end the call so we could talk. His icy, businesslike demeanor saw my smile, then laughed in my face before turning his back to me and leaving the room.
Dottie and Keith brought wine and hung out in my room while I got ready for my date with Dylan. Aleck greeted them, completely ignoring my existence. His treatment was icier than my name, and I didn’t like it. It made me feel…icky.
Two things were certain:One, Aleck was mad. He’s mad I’m going on a date. Can I blame him? No, seriously, that’s an actual question—can I blame him? He and I aren’tdating. Hedoesn’t datefor crying out loud! He’s told me several times that he doesn’tdorelationships, or love. And barely even life if it doesn’t fit into his tightly managed and well-manicured box.
I’ll admit, the timing of Dylan showing up was bad. But what was I supposed to do? Dylan drove here specifically to ask me out. Was I really going to tell him,No, I can’t, you see, I’m kind of trying to bang the best man?
And two, Aleck Fox is a giant man-baby when he doesn’t get what he wants.
And it’snotattractive.
Dylan, of course, was early to pick me up and he showed up with more flowers. Lavender and yellow roses this time. I made it a point to invite him into the suite so I could put the roses in water. Since Aleck had left hours before, making himself scarce, I didn’t see any harm in showing Dylan around.
And this time Dylan wasn’t wearing board shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt. No, this time he was wearing navy fitted dress slacks with a crisp white button-down collared shirt and his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Completing the look with a black tie and dark brown Oxfords. He was breathtaking.
Dylan the surfing bartender has game.Seriousgame. Which at the moment, he’s turning up to twenty.
“What do you think of this place?” he asks, sitting across our small table in the corner of a dimly lit Italian restaurant, Bello Italiano.
“It’s beautiful. Have you been here before?”
“Yeah, actually. Those guys I mentioned who live close to here are some of my best friends. We grew up surfing together. When they moved out this way, I spent a lot of time at their place. We used to come here after surfing. They have an excellent meatball sub on their lunch menu. And I think their lasagna is the best in town.”
“I may have to agree with you, it’s delicious.” I smile, dabbing the corners of my mouth.
Bello Italiano is so cute, so quaint, and romantic I could picture it described in one of my romance novels. The restaurant itself is probably only the size of my apartment, with limited seating and a bar. But what it lacks in space, it makes up for with its charm. The outside patio, where we’re seated now, is double the size of the inside with fairy lights draped overhead across the entire seating area. The seats are spaced out enough that you don’t feel on top of each other, considering each table is occupied. And there’s two wood-burning fireplaces on either side of the patio, giving it warmth, and flickers of dancing light no matter what table you’re seated at.
Aleck mentioned his favorite food is Italian…
Jesus. Who cares?
You do, idiot.
He asks questions. A lot of questions. About me, my job, my interests. He’s perfect even as I try to spot one red flag, one warning sign alluding to him being a closeted stalker/serial killer. Or at the very least, a phony or boring. But I can’t findone. He’s interested, kind, and humble. Essentially, he’s everything Aleck is not.
So why can’t you stop thinking about him?
Shut up.
“I want to bring Keith and the girls here when Sondra arrives,” I speak up, knocking Aleck from my mind. “They’ll absolutely love it.”
“I’m glad you like it. So, tell me about your friends…”
“They’re great. Sondra has been my best friend since I was born because our mothers were best friends. And Dottie, Keith, and I met when I worked as a barista at Java House.”
