40. Hayden
Chapter forty
Hayden
Finally, Addie agreed to go out with me. I feel like I’m walking on clouds as I saunter up to her house.
But just as I’m about to reach for the doorbell, the door opens.
“Shhh!” There she is, looking as beautiful as ever, and pressing her fingers to her red lips. “I just managed to escape.”
“Who’s watching Luna?” I ask in a hushed tone. I know she’s incredibly picky about who she does and does not trust alone with our daughter.
“Penny. She put Moana on, and I placed Loones before the TV and snuck away. If she sees you, we’ll never be able to leave.”
With that, we hurry back down the stairs and into the back of the large SUV.
“Oh, my gosh. Lionel!” she exclaims after getting settled and securing her seatbelt.
He lowers the rearview mirror and tips his hat. “Good evening, Addie.”
“I haven’t seen you in forever. How have you been?”
“Very well, thank you.”
“Good. The wife and kids are alright?”
“Of course.”
From there, they talk about details regarding his personal life that I didn’t even know about, and I just watch in awe at her. Even though she was born with a silver spoon in her mouth, like me, she certainly doesn’t act like it. Instead, she seems to genuinely care about people, and even the “help” that makes their living by working for us.
“So,” she says while clapping her hands together and putting them in her lap, “where are you taking me tonight?”
“Have you ever been to Otium?”
She gasps. “No, I haven’t. But I hear it’s absolutely exquisite. Actually, my friend, Sam, knows the chef. Timothy Hollingsworth?”
“No kidding.” I am genuinely interested in what she has to say, but she looks so beautiful. And the city lights are sparkling just right in her shiny, silver dress that it’s hard for me to pay perfect attention to her words.
“Yeah! You remember me talking about Sam, right?”
I have to sort through the deepest creases in my mind, but thankfully, some helpful information pops up. “The one from Phoenix?”
“Exactly. They worked at The French Laundry for a while.”
Her striking appearance and enthusiasm are more than I can handle. I readjust myself before she notices just how excited she’s making me. “That’s crazy,” I manage to mutter.
“Yeah! Do you mind if I text her quickly and tell her? She’ll freak out that we’re going to his restaurant.”
“No, no. Go right ahead.” If anything, I welcome the momentary distraction. It would be quite the sight for me to pop into such a hopping and well-known place with a tent in my pants.
So, as she furiously types away on her screen, I rest against the door and try to think about my dear Grammy Cohen. Think of her bumpy, loose turkey neck, Hayden.
I open my eyes and look down.
Whew. That seems to have done the trick.
“Anyway,” she murmurs after putting the device back in her tiny purse. “As I was saying, Sam lived in California for a bit. Almost four or five years, I think.”
“Hence, the gig at The French Laundry.”
Addie grins and nods. “Yep.”
“So, what did she do? Was she in the kitchen or—”
“No, she was a server. Have you ever been?”
“A few times. You?”
She shakes her head. “No, but I’d love to go.”
Noted.
“Sam is modest and says it doesn’t really live up to the hype. But I think she may have had lost her rose-colored glasses after working there for so long. What do you think?”
I reflect on one of the many times I had the pleasure of dining there. I was with my brother, Noah, and a few of his female “friends.” We wined and dined to the nines, and to this day, it’s the best sirloin I’ve ever tasted.
When I relay all of this to her, minus the little detail about the girls. She grins with stars in her eyes. “It sounds so glamorous.”
“Well, you can think of tonight as a dry run. I mean, as you said, the head chef worked there for years, right?”
She smiles again. “Right.”
When we pull up, Lionel gets out and opens my door before I swing over and let Addie out. Like the gentlemen that I am, I give her my hand.
“Have I told you just how gorgeous you look tonight?” I ask, soaking her up from behind as she walks towards the building.
Looking back at me over her shoulder, her blue irises dazzling, she replies, “Well, thank you. You’re not so bad yourself.”
“Good evening,” the sharp-dressed host greets us as soon as we get into the main entryway.
“Evening. We have a reservation for two under ‘Cohen.’”
He checks his massive book before nodding and grabbing two menus. “Great. Please follow me.”
As evidenced by the shawl around Addie’s shoulders, it’s a little cold tonight, so I’m glad that I opted for an indoor table.
“Here we are,” he says, referring to a nice, spacious booth.
To my chagrin, she scoots in across from me. Fortunately. I kind of hate those couples that sit on the same side.
“Enjoy your dinner tonight.”
“Thank you.” She beams up at him. And by his bashful smile, I can tell that he’s smitten with her. But who could blame him?
Just like the streetlights on the way over here, the twinkling bulbs cascading above us shine in her dress.
“Oh, my goodness. It all looks so good. My mouth is practically watering.”
Mine too. But not for the same reason. I bite my lip as I think about nibbling on her plump lips.
“Hayden? Everything alright?”
“What?” Her voice instantly brings me back to reality. “Uh, yeah. Of course.”
She looks reluctant, but nevertheless, returns her focus on the menu. “I think the Baja striped bass sounds good. What are you in the mood for?”
You. “Um, well . . . I guess the lamb neck might be alright.”
“Ooh, yeah. It sounds decadent. Although,” her nose turns up, “my nursery as a child was decorated with lambs, so I’ve never been able to stomach eating one.”
“No lamb it is.”
“No, no.” She reaches her hand over. “You get whatever you want. Please do not let my hang-ups interfere with your meal.”
Regardless of all that, I still decide to go with the spinach bucatini instead.
“Isn’t it crazy that we finally own the land for Ivory Shores now?” she says later.
“Yeah, crazy,” I answer half-heartedly.
She shrugs and exhales sharply from her nostrils. “Hayden! Seriously, what’s going on with you?”
I set my utensils down and blot at the corners of my mouth before confessing, “I’m sorry. You just look so exquisite tonight. I’m having a hard time paying attention to anything other than that dress of yours.”
After swallowing her latest bite, she glances down. “Is there something wrong with it?”
“Yes.”
“What?” Her eyes squint, and her lips pout.
With a clenched jaw, I explain, “What’s wrong with it is that I’d like to rip it off of you right here, right now.”
She bursts out into laughter. But when that subsides, she teases me, “And what makes you think you’re going to get lucky tonight, Mr. Cohen?”
“Mr. Cohen?” Something about the formality of that gets me even harder.
“Why, yes. After all, I am a lady. Ladies have manners. They call people by formal names, and they don’t have sex after first dates.”
I scoff. “First date? Isn’t this our second? Plus, Addie, I’ve known you forever.”
Her eyebrow is perched when she replies, “Still.”
In a high-pitched, mocking voice, I repeat, “Still.”
“Hayden!”
“What?” I play dumb.
“Stop making fun of me!” she demands, throwing some hair over her shoulder.
“I wasn’t.” To emphasize my point, I pick up some asparagus in my fork and plop it into my mouth.
She clicks her tongue. “You’ve been making fun of me since we were kids. Remember when Talia and I did that number for our school’s winter concert?”
Oh, God. How could I forget. “That haunting Sisters song from White Christmas, right?”
“It isn’t haunting. It’s adorable.”
I lean closer to her. “Addie. Close your eyes and sing it really slowly in your head. Go ahead. I’ll wait.”
She seems to be doing as I suggested, but her eyes pop open again in horror a few seconds later. “Oh, my God! That is horrifying!”
I belly laugh. “I told you!”
“Geez. Why the hell did Mrs. Groff let us sing that?” Then, she suddenly gasps, “Did you know she used to be a background singer for Ray Charles?”
I purse my lips. “Old Mrs. Groff? Your choir teacher with the mole and the snaggletooth?”
Addie giggles. “Yes. But she did have a gorgeous voice. Did you ever hear her sing?”
“Nope. I can’t say I ever had the pleasure.”
“Oh, it was beautiful. She went to Julliard, you know.”
The Ray Charles thing still seems like a pretty far-fetched lie to me, but what do I know? In any event, I turn the topic back to that fateful night years and years ago.
“I certainly did not hate the little lacey dresses you and Talia were sporting, though.”
She flicks her wrist in my direction. “Oh, come on. They covered every inch of our bodies. Mrs. Groff and our mothers made sure of it. And as if the turtleneck quarter-length sleeves weren’t already enough, they wanted us to look just like Rosemary Clooney and Vera-Ellen in the movie, so that meant the addition of long, blue gloves too.”
“I remember.” The memory of her on that stage makes my heart pang. “Oh, and then you had those feather things.”
“Fans,” she clarifies.
“Whatever they were, they reminded me of Vegas showgirls.”
She snarls. “You’re ridiculous. We looked like two old biddies up there.”
“Maybe now. But for a horny teenager who had never gotten any action, it did something for me.”
Her hand covers her face. “Oh, goodness gracious.”
“Never underestimate the power of a man’s ability to turn anything into something sexual if he wants it to be badly enough.”
“Ugh. That’s so gross.”
Holding my hands up in a “w,” I say, “I’m just telling you the truth here.”
“No, I know. You guys are all big pervs.”
“Hey now! I didn’t say that.”
She giggles, and I swear I could listen to the sound of that all day.
“However, I must say, I definitely prefer tonight’s outfit to the other one.”
There’s another sparkle in her ocean-colored eyes when she grabs her shawl off the back of the booth and wraps it tightly around her chest and neck. “You sure? Because I can always go like this, if that’s what you prefer.”
“No, no.” Our meals are mostly done by this point, so I don’t feel as bad about going onto the same side as her. “I like it this way.” I remove the extra covering to reveal her spaghetti straps and revealing neckline.
I marvel for a minute as her chest rises and falls.
“Hayden,” she whispers.
“Yeah?” Our eyes meet, and I lick my lips before biting down on the lower one.
“Don’t forget what I said about being a lady.” The way she’s saying it, it seems like she might be trying to convince herself of something.
“Uh-huh.” Her words go in one ear and out the other as I experience an undeniable magnet pulling our bodies together.
She swallows hard, and I can practically hear her gulp.
“Hayden.”
I cup her face and use my thumb to point her chin up. Then, I graze her lips ever so softly with mine—just so she can get a taste of what’s to come.
“Um, excuse me.” I flag our server down as he walks by. “Check, please.”