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It’s Brad Coventry. A handsome man raised with morals asked you out!
When the doorbell rings, I groan and grab my purse. I hear my parents greet Brad as I rush out of my bedroom. Dad is shaking Brad’s hand when I hit the last step.
Brad’s gaze shifts to me. “Wow,” he whispers and clears his throat. “You look stunning.” He hands me a bouquet of beautiful white and red roses.
“Oh… um, thank you.” I squirm at his praise, taking the flowers from his outstretched hand. I hate being the center of attention and right now, all eyes are on me.
My mom rushes forward and takes the flowers. “I’ll put these in some water for you.”
“Thank you, Mom.” I shift from one foot to the other, unsure what to do.
As if he can sense my unease, Brad holds out his arm, and I link mine with his.
He turns to my parents. “I’m sorry to rush off, but we have reservations at eight,” he apologizes.
“Don’t worry about that, son.” Dad pats him on the back. “You kids have fun, but not too much.”
“Dad, stop.” I roll my eyes. “I’ll see you when I get home.”
I wave over Brad’s shoulder as he opens the car door for me. I slide into the soft buttery leather seat, and it feels luxurious, but it doesn’t impress me. Brad seems to like the finer things in life, if the way he dresses and the car he drives is any indication. I couldn’t care less about material things or how much money a person has. I want a man who's going to stand by my side, be my rock, and love me unconditionally, not someone who is going to worry about appearances and what others think of us based on our possessions.
“You have a nice car,” I say as he drives down the road.
“Thanks, but it’s not my style.” His eyes dart to mine quickly before he looks back at the road. “In my current position, appearances are everything. To get ahead, you have to have the flashy car, designer clothes, and an impeccable home.”
“Oh.” I can’t think of anything else to say so I wait for him to continue.
“Can I be honest with you, Violet?”
I smile. “I actually prefer that.”
“I want a simpler life. That’s why I went back to school for my Bachelor of Arts in Theology and Ministry.” He pulls into the parking lot of the restaurant. “How about we go inside and finish our conversation?” I nod. “Wait there, I’ll get your door.”
After we’re shown to our table and our orders are taken, we sit back enjoying a glass of wine.
“So, you want a simpler life?” I ask quietly. “I mean, you don’t have to answer that. I’m sorry for asking such a personal question.”
“Violet, it’s okay. I said we would continue the conversation inside.” He reaches across the table and brushes his thumb over my hand that’s gripping a wine glass. “To answer your question, yes, I want a simpler life. I’m tired of the mentality that money equates to happiness and no matter how much you make, your company and friends want you to make more. I don’t like fake relationships and in my line of work that’s all there is: People pretending to be your friend to see what you can do for them.”
Maybe I was wrong about him.
“What do you want? Besides becoming a pastor?”
“I want a family someday. I want a wife who loves me for me and not for the money in my bank account. I want my children to grow up with good morals and not become corrupt like most youths do in today’s society.” Brad’s voice drops to barely above a whisper. “I want to be able to quit pretending I’m happy and actuallybehappy.”
My vision blurs from the sincerity in his voice. I blink back tears before I make a fool out of myself and take a sip of my wine. My dad always says, ‘Don’t judge a book by its cover’, and I did that to Brad.
I discreetly shake my head, dumping all the preconceived notions I had and put more effort into getting to know Brad.
The rest of the evening goes surprisingly well. Brad is not only handsome, but he’s also charming and caring. As he drives back to my parent’s house, I can’t help but hope he asks me out again.
After Brad parks in the driveway, he once again instructs me to let him get the door for me. I’m not used to chivalry from men, and my heart swells at his thoughtfulness. He opens my door, pulls me out gently, and walks me to the front porch.
“Thank you for dinner,” I say shyly. “I had a wonderful time.”
“Me too.” Brad leans forward and grazes my cheek with a soft kiss. “I hope that wasn’t too bold.” I shake my head, too speechless to speak, but my inner self is jumping up and down. “Can I take you out again next week?”
“I’d like that.”
