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“Wow, that is fast. I mean, I expected longer with it being a Ferrari and needing specialty parts.”
It would’ve been longer, but money talks, so the shop had expedited everything. Even though Tyler pretty much demanded I hold the car until he worked off what I was paying him, I knew he could ask for it back at any time. Hell, I’d gladly return it. I just wanted to do so in the same shape it was when he left it with me.
“I just hope they do as good a job as they promised.”
Joyelle smiled. “Don’t worry about that. I called them myself. They won’t screw you over.”
That’s cute. You really think I need your help.“That’s good to know.”
“He’s a good guy. He wouldn’t have done that anyway, but now he knows we’re friends. He’ll have your car looking brand new, inside and out.”
“Thank you.” I knew I should tell her that the Ferrari isn’t mine, but I didn’t want to get into why I was going through all this trouble when it belonged to Tyler. I wasn’t lying, just leaving out some of the details.
When the waitress returned with our food, I noticed Joyelle’s eyes widen. “I can’t remember the last time I had chicken marsala.” She took a bite and moaned. “Oh, my God, this is amazing.” Holding out a piece on her fork she asked, “Would you like a bite?”
I leaned over and took the morsel into my mouth. Joyelle was correct, the food was good. But it wasn’t what I was hungry for. I wanted Joyelle, and the more I saw her, the harder it became to walk away. It didn’t help that she was flirting with me. It was subtle, but I picked up on it. The way she licked her lips after each bite, or how she slowly slipped the fork out of her mouth with a soft moan. Fucking killing me.
“You made a good choice,” I said.
“Richard, we are at one of the best Italian restaurants in Providence. I don’t think anything we ordered would’ve been anything but fantastic. How’s your steak?”
“Is that a hint?” I teased. “I don’t mind sharing.” I cut a piece and held it out to her.
She shook her head. “I’m not a huge meat-eater unless it’s in a burger. Actually, I don’t do seafood or pork either. Guess it’s just chicken that I enjoy. That and pasta, pizza, and of course, dessert. I have a horrible sweet tooth.”
“I remember. I believe you had more toppings on your ice cream sundae than actual ice cream,” I reminded her.
“Guilty.” She placed her fork on the plate and said, “I can’t eat another bite.”
“Does that mean you didn’t save room for dessert?” I winked.
“I don’t think so,” she replied.
“That’s a shame. I was hoping we could share a piece of the limoncello mascarpone cake.”
Joyelle said, “I’ve changed my mind.”
I called the waitress over and ordered the dessert. “With two forks, please.”
Joyelle added, “Could you please make that dessert to go?”
The waitress nodded and went to fill our order.
“I thought you wanted to eat it with me,” I said, with mock offense.
Joyelle nodded. “Coffee goes great with that cake. I thought I could make us a pot back at the apartment.”
She was offering dessert, and it sure as hell wasn’t that cake. You’re making it so hard to say no.
The waitress returned with the cake boxed up. That was the only sign I needed. Fuck the cake. It’s you I want.
“Coffee is just what I need,” I replied.
I paid the bill and we drove back to her place. We couldn’t get there fast enough. At the door, she seemed to be struggling to find the right key.
“Damn it!”
“Would you like some help?” I asked. As she handed me the keys, I noticed her hands were trembling. Nervous or excited? I honestly couldn’t tell. I had no issue with slipping the key in and unlocking the door. As it swung open, Joyelle hesitated a moment before stepping through.
