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“Not as beautiful as you are.”
Her attention jerked to him and she studied him a moment, her surprise melting away to a slight smile and warmth as she realized he meant the words. “You don't have to compliment me. I know I'm not the type of woman you're used to taking out.”
“That doesn't make my words any less true.”
On the tail end of his statement, he got out and walked around to her side, opening the door for her and offering her a hand.
She took his hand, that smile still in place as he helped her to her feet. Again, noticing her grace, her beauty, her natural charm, he offered her his arm and she threaded hers through his, placing her hand on his wrist.
Maybe that move was an old-fashioned gesture, but she'd have to get used to the fact that he was a decade older than her. The way the skin at the base of her throat hollowed out as they touched didn't escape his notice, nor did his own thumping pulse. He wrote it off as a purely physical reaction to her beauty, proximity, and youth.
What man wouldn't breathe a little harder next to a beautiful woman? Not a living, red-blooded one, that's for sure.
As he led her into the restaurant, he noticed her scan the space, then glance up at him with a confused expression. “Are you sure they're open?” she asked.
“I booked the entire place for this date.”
She let out a low whistle. “You're setting the bar way too high for every date I have after you.”
Carter couldn't help but chuckle as he led her to his favorite seat. As they sat down across from one another, the owner walked out with a bright smile on his face. “The usual?”
Carter nodded and the man quickly vanished, leaving them alone in the beautiful space. Carter loved the modern, white and gray space, the excessive use of string lights, the shadowy corners and intimate feel of the place. Plus, Fresco’s had the best lobster ravioli around.
After Carter discovered this little hole in the wall restaurant, it had become his favorite place to get pasta and comfort food.
“Ooh, the usual. That sounds ominous.” Her gaze skipped away from him to take in the white, black, and gray modern wall art, the large floor to ceiling rounded-top windows, and the fresh modern feel of the place.
“Tell me about yourself, Kaitlyn.” Carter leaned toward her over the table.
“What do you want to know?” Her gaze met his, softly challenging, and he couldn't help but meet her part way.
“Tell me everything you're willing to share; your hopes, dreams, goals, favorite things, everything.” As Carter gave her his undivided attention, he couldn't help but wonder what she'd say. She'd surprised him at almost every turn, and he was excited to see who she really was under it all.
“In spite of what you might think about my profession-”
Carter held up a hand, cutting off her flow of words. “I learned a long time ago not to judge anyone for what they do or make assumptions about them when I don’t truly know. So, rest assured, what you do has no bearing on what I think of you.”
She seemed at a loss for words for a moment, before picking up steam again, her hazel eyes warm and kind. “My dreams are to keep building my savings, to buy the house that I've been drooling over, maybe find a partner or companion, and enjoy life because I know it's short.” She seemed to retreat into herself for a moment, and Carter wanted to pull her back out.
“Where did you go just then?” he asked.
She offered a wobbly smile. “That might be more of a second or third date conversation.”
“And if we don't get a second or third date?” Carter's intention wasn't to remind her that he only had her time for one date, but that - as she'd said - life was short and maybe getting out ahead of whatever was haunting her was a better idea.
She seemed to understand, and with a slight nod, she spoke. “A bit of a sad story, but please don’t feel bad for me. I grew up in the system, no parents, nothing to call my own. So, the fact that I'm looking at potentially buying my own house is a huge stepping stone and it kind of chokes me up sometimes, if that makes sense.”
Carter couldn't imagine the hardships she faced. “That makes perfect sense.”
“Other than that, I love Italian food, the color green, rainy days, thick books, coffees that are more like dessert, and good conversations with intelligent, open people.” With a slight nod, she left him feeling included in her final statement and he realized her charm surprised him. Not only did he believe her, but a warmth filled him and spread through his gut.
The server discreetly slipped drinks in front of them before hurrying off and Kaitlyn thanked them before picking up the drink and bringing it to her lips. Watching him over the rim, she said, “How about yourself?”
“Quite a different story, but I'm not bragging. I grew up in a very well to do household, with loving and supportive parents, but clawed my own way up in business. I didn’t accept any money from them before starting up my own business, other than the money spent to send me to school, which I've since paid back. I'm content where I am, but I do feel like my life might be missing something. I haven't pinpointed what that is exactly.” As he spoke, Carter realized he enjoyed being candid with her. So few people were willing to just be open and honest and vulnerable. She made doing so a breeze.
“I also love Italian food, I prefer the color gray, I like rainy days, I tend to read more technical books and less for pleasure, which I know is a shame. I like my coffee black and you’ve hit the nail on the head about good conversations.” Carter picked up his drink and took a sip.
“Well, Carter Wright, things are certainly more complicated now. I think I like you.”
