Chapter One #2
“That won’t be necessary,” I tell him, feeling a little angry that a woman dining alone is assumed to be fair game for flirting. As though she’s begging for someone to join her and save her from herself.
I notice a woman sitting at another table staring at us. No, glaring at us. I swear she’s giving me major stink eye.
He’s taken. What a jerk.
“Do you have somewhere to be? Your girlfriend’s not happy with you right now.” Is she waiting for him to return while he flirts with me? Shameless.
He splays his hands. “No girlfriend in sight around here.”
“Is there a girl who would be upset when she hears you say that? That counts.”
“Does it count if I’m upset that she thinks she’s my girl?”
“No, because you must have done something that made her think it.”
He places his hands in his pockets. “Hmm, good point. I’ll go apologize right away. First, who is she?”
“You don’t know?”
“No clue.” His half smile stays in place while his intense eyes never leave my face.
I glance at the woman who was giving me the stink eye. Her significant other just returned to the table, and he’s helping her stand as she smiles brightly at him.
Oops. Maybe I’m wrong about the man in black.
“Too late. She’s leaving with another man. You’ve been replaced.”
“Lucky escape?”
“Yes, she just made one.” I scan the room, wondering if there’s another woman waiting somewhere for him. I feel sorry for her, wherever she is.
“Ouch. The knife in my back just twisted.”
That voice of his is killing me. He constantly sounds like he’s whispering in my ear. “Who put it there in the first place? Do I need to get in line?” I turn my head to the side as an uncontrollable sneeze takes me by surprise. Classy, Bree, real classy.
“Shut up,” the man says, smooth as satin.
“Excuse me?”
“It’s tradition in our family. If someone sneezes, we tell them to shut up. It’s how we roll.”
“I don’t roll in that direction,” I tell him firmly.
His demeanor changes slightly as he says, “Please enjoy your choice of dessert. Whatever you’d like. It’s on me. Consider it your due for having to put up with me and my bad jokes. I hope you’ve enjoyed your time at Exodus this evening.”
He nods and politely takes his leave. He moves to the next table, and still speaking with his smooth voice, says, “Please tell me you’ve loved every moment of your dining experience, or I’ll be mortally wounded.”
Oh.
He works here.
He wasn’t actually trying to flirt with me. He was just being friendly. Dropping by my table to ensure everything was to my liking.
Oops again.
Maybe he should have made his intentions clear from the get-go. Why did he go along with me like that? He seemed to enjoy it too. Now I feel bad for being rude.
I don’t want to go through life feeling bad about my behavior. The thought makes me uncomfortable, like I want to squirm out of my skin. What’s wrong with me? Why isn’t polite my first response to human interaction?
Why can’t Bree the Bad become Bree the Better?
Bad apples can’t change. Once they’re rotten, they’re bad to the core.
When I glance at the breathtaking view once again, my reflection in the dark window now sports bright red cheeks.
It’s an improvement. Maybe someday I’ll have my entire face back.
For now, it’s symbolic somehow. I disappeared for a while there.
Now I’m slowly returning, coming back to life.
But I curse my obvious reaction to the man in black.
I don’t get visibly flustered in action or speech—minus the debacle with Sawyer and Quinn—but he made me feel flustered on the inside.
His voice alone could fluster every female in the room.
The patrons at the next table are laughing and joking with him while praising the service and the food at this establishment. Why didn’t I do that?
When he makes his way to the next table, he glances back at me, a tinge of regret in his features.
My waiter brings me the dessert menu. What the heck?
I might as well indulge. My mouth waters as I peruse the options.
Oh my, the desserts are just as luscious as the entrées.
I should choose the dainty little shot glass of chocolate mousse.
But I don’t. I choose the delectable molten chocolate lava cake topped with strawberries.
Go big or go home. Seize the day. And whatever other encouraging saying I can think of to boost my mood.
The man in black is several tables away from me now. I can’t help but watch him as he socializes with ease, making the patrons smile with his odd wit, half smile, velvety voice, and intense eyes. Such a strange combination. I’m intrigued.
I love a man who sees humor in life. I can’t imagine what it would be like to see the world through his eyes. It makes me think he must always look on the bright side, that he’s always cheerful, making the people around him smile. Yet he’s soft-spoken. I’m not sure how he pulls it off.
He’s dark and exotic looking. Maybe Italian in descent. He’s tall, with long legs, but he’s solid and not too skinny. There’s a slight wave in his thick hair, like he’s due for a trim to tame his mane. Otherwise, it’ll soon have a mind of its own.
I grab my phone with the intention of calling Quinn to tell her about my brief interaction with the man in black.
I always tell her everything, and she’ll understand my fleeting fascination with him.
I stop abruptly and place my phone back in my purse.
We don’t have that kind of relationship anymore.
I miss her desperately. Now that I know she’s alive, now that she’s home, I still can’t act on my impulses to call her. The desire to share everything with her never went away, even when I thought she was dead.
I wish I hadn’t been so prickly toward the man in black. A flirty man doesn’t make me giggly. It never has. It’s as though one of my girl genes is missing. Instead, it makes me mad. I don’t know why. I’ve always been this way.
Hence, I dine alone, live alone, am alone. I sigh and return my attention to my new best friend. It’s you and me for life, Kindle.
Something needs to change.
I think it might be me.
“YOU PICKED MY favorite. Great minds think alike.”
It’s him again. I’d recognize that soothing voice anywhere. I wish it was the sound I could fall asleep to every night. I’m not sure how much time has passed, but he dares to approach the prickly lady with the razor-sharp tongue again. Brave man.
There are only a few people left in the restaurant. I imagine closing time is near. I got lost in my book while enjoying the sounds of life around me. I guess I’m ready to face my quiet townhome now. It feels like an abyss I’ll get lost in, though. I’m in no hurry.
“Sometimes a great mind doesn’t think at all and consumes large amounts of chocolate.” My table is now empty, other than a stomach-settling mug of herb tea.
“My motto in life is never pass up an opportunity to have dessert. Then I can say I’m a man who truly lived,” he says, spoken as though he just quoted a love poem.
“A consoling thought when you die early from obesity.” A joke coming from my mouth sounds sarcastic, no matter how hard I try.
“There’s something to be said for dying happy.”
“I’m not sure what,” I say dryly.
He places his hands in his pockets again and rocks back on his heels. He knows he’s banging his head on a brick wall.
There I go again. I don’t know why I’m acting unpleasant when he’s just being friendly, doing his job. I guess my walls are up, and every guard is standing at attention. I’m a fortress. Maybe I should unlock at least one door and let a little light in. Or just crack a window.
Try harder, Bree.
“Can I get you anything else, ma’am?”
“Oh please, ma’am was my mother. Call me Bree.” Some call me Breezy. I now hate that name.
“Bree it is. I’m Ren. Ren Chambers.”
“Ren?” Ren with the gorgeous voice, dark eyes, and strange humor. I’ll dream of him tonight.
He gestures with one hand, his movements slow and controlled. “My parents have issues. They thought Clarence was a suitable name for their son.”
“Did they hate you?” Dear Sarcasm, we can’t be friends anymore.
“They never said as much, but I sometimes wonder. It’s not even a family name. I could’ve forgiven them if that was the case. I fought them every step of the way, tore up my birth certificate, and renamed myself Ren.”
For being so intense, he certainly doesn’t take himself seriously. “Smart man.” Clarence is an awful name. Ugh. “I like Ren. Good choice.”
“You’re much too kind.” While he’s subtly sarcastic, it’s of the upbeat variety, making him come across as friendly rather than snippy. I could learn a thing or two from him.
We smile at each other as several awkward moments tick by. I think I could stare into his eyes for hours and still want more. Huh. When I let a little light trickle in, it defeats the darkness. Something I need to remember.
“Thank you for dessert.” I’m finally remembering my manners. I do have them. They like to hide as though they’re dormant flowers, waiting for spring.
“You’re welcome, Bree. I hope you’ll dine with us again soon.” With that tone of voice, he could’ve just asked me to marry him.
Back to business—and a huge reminder he’s not flirting with me. Which is good since I’m not looking to flirt. These days, I’m all about look but don’t touch. “Are you getting ready to close?”
“Soon. No hurry at all. Take your time,” he says, slick as ever.
“All right. Thank you.” I will. I’m not ready to leave quite yet. I’d like to sit here and pretend I’m reading while sneaking glimpses of the dashing Ren. Because looking is all I’ll allow myself to do. I suppose a little fantasizing is okay too.
Hey Ren, you could be my next mistake.