Chapter 2 #2
My eyes snapped open to reality, my reality, in which there was no way I’d see him again.
Or so I thought until my stomach growled, and it was enough to put the dangerous idea back on the table.
Having skipped lunch, I could use a good meal.
Besides, it wasn’t like I had any hidden intentions.
I was a man of self-restraint, and he’d only invited me for a meal to repay my kindness and nothing more.
If anything, it would be rude to decline such an offer, considering the sincerity with which he invited me.
Not to mention, who knew if Elliot was even gay?
He was French, for Christ’s sake. Weren’t they all overly affectionate with how they greeted one another with a kiss on the cheek?
My many excuses seemed to do the job, and I grabbed my coat and put it on.
Pleasant warmth enveloped me as I stepped inside the small bistro, which was empty except for a couple sitting on a corner table.
Soft jazz music played in the background, and appetizing scents filled the room.
The small restaurant was as cozy as I’d imagined it to be, with a white tablecloth and a lit candle on each table, the perfect place to dine on such a stormy evening.
I’d just taken off my gloves and coat when an older lady came to greet me.
“A table for one?” she asked, and I noticed her slight accent.
Is she the French owner Elliot had mentioned?
“Yes, please,” I said, and before she could walk me to my table, I stopped her. “Actually, I came to meet Elliot?”
Her brows rose, and she smiled at me. “Did you?”
“Yes.” Why does she sound surprised? “Is he here?”
Her smile grew bigger before she pointed at a table by the window. “Why don’t you wait here? I’ll be back shortly.”
Feeling awkward, I nodded like a moron and watched her walk to the back of the restaurant, where I assumed the kitchen was.
Left alone, I scolded myself for coming here. The way she smiled at me like she could see right through me? I should leave right now, while I still could—
“Daniel?”
I turned at Elliot’s soft voice, and the second I saw him stepping out of the kitchen, a black apron wrapped around his slim waist and a beautiful smile spread on his lips—my thoughts of leaving were as good as gone.
“Oh, I’m so happy you came!” he gushed in French, and before I knew what was happening, he planted a kiss on each of my cheeks. “I was beginning to worry you wouldn’t come.”
My heart hammered fast in my chest due to his sudden proximity, and I held my hand tightly behind my back to resist the urge to touch the spot he’d just kissed.
“Of course, you asked so nicely, and I assumed it would be rude to refuse.”
Elliot took a step back and stared at me for a good moment, a pleased smile on his face, before he snapped out of it and waved toward the chair. “Please sit down.” He quickly reached to take my coat from me.
“Are you sure it’s fine for me to be here?” I asked, looking around the almost empty restaurant.
“Yes, of course. I’m already done working for today.”
“You are?”
He hummed a yes. “You see, it’s a small place with low traffic, so it’s just Marrie and me working here. She’s with her grandchildren in the mornings, so I work then until she comes at the evening.”
That explains it.
“Do you want something to drink? Wine, maybe?” he asked.
“Wine would be nice.”
He nodded, then walked away with my coat and gloves.
I watched him disappear to the back of the restaurant before I took my seat at the table and patiently waited for him to come back.
My fingers tapped the tablecloth as anxiety nipped at my stomach.
I couldn’t help but feel I was doing something wrong, but then again, this was only one dinner.
“Sorry for keeping you waiting,” Elliot said as he practically waltzed back to the table and placed a glass in front of me. “This wine is from Provence.” He presented me with the bottle. “It’s where I’m from.”
“Oh, for some reason, I imagined you were from Paris,” I said while he poured me a taste.
“All Americans assume all French are from Paris.” He chuckled. “It’s quite a shame, considering how big and beautiful the rest of France is.” He nudged the glass closer to me. “Come on, monsieur, taste it.”
Monsieur.
Mister.
Charmed by this one word, my throat dried, and I hurried to sip the wine.
“So? How is it?”
I put down the glass.
“It’s delicious.”
Elliot’s smile grew wider, and joy glinted in his precious eyes. “I know! It’s my absolute favorite,” he said, filling my glass—a bit too much, if I may say so.
“Why don’t you drink, too?” I asked as I reached for the now filled glass. Taking a deep gulp, I savored the rich taste of the wine. Perhaps I should buy a bottle—
“Apparently, I’m not old enough to drink in America,” he said, catching me off guard as I took another sip.
The wine went down the wrong pipe, and I began coughing like a complete fool.
He isn’t old enough to drink? That means he’s—
“Daniel!” Elliot tapped on my back as I raised my hand to let him know I was fine before reaching for a napkin.
“J-just, how old are you?” I asked, my voice rough from coughing.
“Nineteen. Why? Do I look older?”
Oh, dear Lord… nineteen? That was even younger than my baby sister.
“No, no, of course you don’t look older.”
What was I even doing here? He was practically a child.
“I’ll be twenty in the summer,” Elliot went on before he slid into the empty chair in front of me. “How old are you?”
Embarrassed, I swallowed hard. “Thirty-three.”
“Aww, that’s young.” With both elbows on the table, he leaned on his palms. “Your clothes and driver made me think you’re a bit older, though.”
Not older, just old. Way too old to be even looking at him.
“You’re very handsome, too,” he added in a by-the-way comment, and startled, I stared back at him.
Even though I knew I looked good, with rich brown hair I'd inherited from Mother and bright gray eyes that often got me compliments, I wasn’t used to men pointing it out. And not just men—him. Elliot. The most beautiful human being I’d ever laid my eyes on.
“Thank you,” I said, keeping my expression composed.
“You’re welcome.” He smiled, his eyes still studying me.
Being under his stare made me feel exposed. Almost vulnerable. It was odd since he knew nothing about me. And while it scared me, in a way, there was also a part of me that wished he’d continue to doing so until there was nothing left, and he’d see me for what I was.
“Didn’t you promise me a dinner?” I asked, and he jumped back to his feet.
“Oh, God! I’d almost forgotten.” The sound of laughter I’d already associated with him followed his words. “I’d better get started, hmm?” He half turned to walk away but stopped with his lips pursed. “You stay here and drink until I’m back. Okay?”
Considering his age and my position, I knew that I should come up with an excuse and leave.
Nothing good ever came out of playing with fire, and Elliot—with his flirtatious nature and striking looks—was certainly a burning flame.
However, as someone who despised the cold, it was nearly impossible for me to resist such alluring heat.
And so, instead of doing the right thing, I smiled back at him.
“Okay.”