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“Oh my,” I say, fluttering my hand in front of my face. “Such flattery. You’re making me blush.”
Brock elbows me subtly in the ribs as we follow the French waiter.
“This is a fancy place,” Brock says, laughing, after we’re seated. “No bad jokes or silly puns. You’ll get us kicked out.”
“You’re no fun,” I say, pouting.
We chat for a little while, nibbling on bread, when Luke Alder arrives.
I’ll admit I’m a little star struck when he just comes over all casual, sitting next to Brock.
Luke’s famous. Like, real-deal famous. He’s got the money, the looks, and the column inches in TMZ. And here I am, little old me, having dinner with him in one of the fanciest restaurants in New York.
“Hi, lovebirds,” he says, winking at Brock. “You sure you want me here, cramping your style? I don’t want to be a third wheel or anything.”
“Shut up, Luke,” Brock says. “Anyway, let’s celebrate.”
Brock orders a couple of bottles of eye-wateringly expensive wine while I sneak a look at the menu and wince.
“It’ll go on expenses,” Luke says, laughing. “Don’t worry. Or Brock will pay. Either works for me.”
“I’d be happy with a couple of bottles of Coors Light or something,” I say. “I’m a cheap date. But hey, if you gentlemen want to order the Chateaux-Nerf-du-Pap or whatever it’s called, I’ll drink that too. No problem.”
“A classy lady. I like that.” Brock touches my arm with a grin, and I feel a thrill run through my body at the contact.
He seems much more relaxed, now that the deal is done. I see now that the whole week he’s definitely been tense and stressed about it, which might explain some of his more annoying habits in the office.
I guess I’ll forgive him. I have no idea what it’s like to negotiate million-dollar deals, so I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt.
The wine comes, and the waiter dutifully pours a little in each of our glasses, and I gulp mine down immediately. It’s only when I put the empty glass down that I notice the incredulous expression on Brock and Luke’s faces.
“What?” I ask.
“You’re supposed to smell it first and taste a little,” Brock explains. “Not guzzle it down like Diet Coke.”
“Tastes good to me,” I say.
Luke shrugs and does the same to his glass of fancy wine. In a bad British accent, he says, “Me too. It’s just spiffing. Lovely drop.”
The waiter looks on, horrified, but pours another glass for Luke and me before scurrying off to attend to more reasonable tables.
“Poor guy is probably over in the corner hyperventilating,” Brock says, laughing. This wine is 300 bucks a bottle, and you know how seriously the French take their wine.”
“It all drinks the same,” Luke says.
The food comes shortly after, and the wine flows. Luke and Brock banter good-naturedly like the old friends they are, and I think back to when Brock used to hang out with Dean at our place when we were younger.
This reminds me of him then, carefree and happy, and it makes me smile to remember those times, how he used to be then. I feel like that same teenaged girl with a crush as I watch him smile and laugh, tiny butterfly wings fluttering in my belly.
Unfortunately, the night has to come to an end at some point, and we stagger out of the restaurant, all having had maybe one or two more glasses of fancy wine than was strictly necessary.
I feel warm and fuzzy and happy on Brock’s arm. It’s been a really good night.
Luke hails a cab first and jumps in, pulling the door shut without giving us a chance to go with him.
“You two should catch your own one,” he says as he lowers his window, winking. “You know, get some time alone together.”
Before Brock can say anything, the cab speeds away.
That was . . . just a joke, right? A friend ribbing a friend?
Still, I can’t help but feel all too aware that Brock and I are alone now, about to head to a hotel together.
Brock
Brock
Damn it, Luke.
Could he have been any more obvious? Nina was standing right there, and his comment wasn’t exactly subtle, so I’m guessing she picked up on it.
We’re sitting in the cab now, and I hope what he said isn’t going to ruin what’s been a really great night.
We worked hard on that deal, and the papers got signed. It feels really good to know that I can do this job—I can make the deals, come to the agreements, and be the big-shot CEO that Luke has entrusted me to be.
I glance a sideward at Nina, trying to gauge her mood. She catches me looking and smiles, rosy-faced and content after the awesome food and wine.
That dress she’s wearing . . . damn. I still can’t get over how gorgeous she looks tonight, and she doesn’t even really seem to realize it.
