AllFreeNovel
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We walk two blocks to the restaurant, my hand naturally straying to the small of her back the entire time.
I grew up in South Carolina, and the downhome gentleman in me hasn’t been ripped out, even after ten years of living in New York City.
After being shown to my favorite table near the restaurant’s wide front window, I sneer at the hostess, who stares at me doe-eyed until she gets the message.
Leave...
I pull out a chair for Bernadette, and she blushes. Set against her fair skin, the rosy color in her cheeks stands out and matches her dark auburn hair.
“Thank you. That’s rare. Men barely hold the door open anymore.” She settles into the chair with an air of elegance.
“You’re hanging around the wrong men.”
She sharply exhales. “Clearly.”
Driven by a burning desire to get to know her, I want to ask how she ended up with her ex. But I don’t usually get personal with clients.
Bernadette glances around nervously. This is a members-only restaurant dripping with wealth and power.
“Come here often?” she says wryly.
“Yes,” I respond with a smile.
Something about her intrigues me. She comes off asshy, but she straightened her back when she boldly talked about her designs. Her golden confidence hit me in the chest.
Eric, my usual waiter, brings us menus. When he goes to hand over mine first, I tent my tattooed fingers.
“Ladiesfirst,” I bite out in a voice that gets the point across without being too loud.
Paling, he reaches across the table, and Bernadette takes it. “Thank you.”
Glaring at Eric, I hold out my hand, and he gently slips another menu to me.
I don’t say thank you. That’s what the tips are for.
“Can I get you started with a dri...” He stops when my glaring goes nuclear. Turning to Bernadette, he finishes, “Miss, can I get you something to drink?”
She looks like she needs something strong. “Are you drinking, Mr. Montgomery?”
“I am.”
Her brown eyes light up. “White wine, please.”
I palm the wine list. “Bring us two glasses of the SQN White.”
“Sir, that’s sold by the bottle.”
I toss him an annoyed look, tired of glaring for one day. “Then throw out the rest.”
“That’s a four-hundred-dollar bottle of wine,” Bernadette objects. “I’ll finish it.”
I laugh, which startles me because I don’t laugh. “You heard the woman.”
“And for lunch?” Eric recites the specials, and Bernadette shifts uncomfortably.
“Miss Armstrong, would you like me to order for you?” I ask her.
She bites her lower lip. “Yes, please.”
