Chapter 9
9
J ake pulls the chair out for me.
He’s sweet.
I admire the restaurant while he takes his seat.
I’ve never been here before.
La Nonna.
The fanciest restaurant in town.
I’ve walked past it many times and am excited to finally eat here.
It’s cozy but elegant, with upscale finishes and white tablecloths.
“Hey Jake,” a twenty-something blonde says, approaching the table, cutting through the humming chatter of the full restaurant.
“Anna. Nice to see you.”
She smiles at me, and I recognize her.
I’ve seen her in High Five before.
“You work at High Five, right?” she asks after staring at me for a moment.
“Yeah. I’m Claire.”
She glances between Jake and me.
“Do you want to order some wine? Maybe a bottle of Chianti?”
Jake raises an eyebrow, leaving the decision to me.
What do I want?
I don’t need to impress him by pretending to be a wine connoisseur.
“I’m more of a cocktail girl,” I share, looking directly at him, then glancing back at the server.
“I’ll have a Negroni.”
“Oh. I haven’t had one of those in a while.” He sounds genuinely excited.
I don’t know why, but that excitement makes me smile.
“I’ll have the same,” he orders.
“Great … and Jake, were you the one that pranked Chad’s truck?”
“What?” he asks, sounding confused.
“Good. I’m happy it wasn’t you. I figured it was another one of the lost boys that refuses to grow up.”
“Don’t lump me in with the guys.” Jake laughs.
“You’re friends with Chad. You’re guilty by association,” Anna chides and then says, “I’ll give you a few minutes.”
“You know her?” I ask, curious about that interaction.
“She’s dating one of my best friends.”
I shouldn’t judge.
I was that girl.
The younger girl with the older guy.
But part of me wants to tell her all of the red flags to look out for.
I sip my water.
“You’re still pranking?”
“I was not involved in whatever she’s talking about,” he says with a shrug.
This date feels easy so far.
It’s going better than I anticipated.
“It’s not that I don’t like wine, by the way,” I share, wanting to keep the conversation flowing after a growing pause.
“But I prefer a cocktail. Also, I don’t like to drink while I eat. I’m more of a pre- and post-meal cocktail person.”
“I’m not much of a wine guy either.” He leans back in his chair slightly.
There’s an easy charm to him, like he’s used to being comfortable in his own skin.
Maybe it’s the confidence that comes with looking like this —strong, tall, and too good looking.
“So, you were going to suffer through for me?” I ask, raising an eyebrow, teasing him.
A defense mechanism I am well aware of.
The more I tease, the more interested I am in a guy.
He chuckles softly.
“Nothing about this is suffering.”
Both of our blue eyes are locked on each other.
Captain America is blistering hot.
It’s effortless hotness even though there’s effort in everything.
The way his shaggy blond hair perfectly falls, the way his shirt fits just right.
Annoyingly hot.
“I like that you don’t have a buzz cut,” I say with a little smirk.
“Feeling rebellious after leaving the military?”
“Were you asking about me?”
“Aaron shared a couple things about you with me.”
“Just a couple?”
I bite my lip, loving the way he is looking at me.
He’s barely broken eye contact since we’ve sat down, and the intensity behind his eyes, it’s smoldering.
“After four years of being forced to have short hair, I’m good.” He runs his hands through his hair.
If he’s trying to show off his biceps with that move, it’s working.
Is that a tattoo peeking through the sleeve of his polo?
“Who knows when it will start falling out, so why not?”
He easily shrugs, and I need to steer my thoughts away from what could happen after dinner, so I ask, “What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve done in the last year?”
The confidence slips from his face for a moment, and that shouldn’t make me smile.
“Our department did a calendar fundraiser … I was August.”
I burst out laughing, imagining him shirtless, posing with a fire hose or something cheesy.
“Show me!” I demand, extending my hand playfully.
He shakes his head.
“No phones on dates.”
“No phones on dates?” I mimic him.
“I like to stay present. There are too many distractions these days, and when I’m on a date, that’s my sole focus.”
He’s genuine and sincere.
Why did I just bite my lip?
“What other rules do you have about dating?”
“I don’t have more than two drinks on a date. And I always pay.” He looks down at the table for a moment.
“What?”
“And, nothing more than a kiss on the first date.”
“How very gentlemanly of you,” I quip, resting my chin in my hand.
I equally appreciate it and hate it.
No sexy firefighter time tonight.
Got it.
But a part of me admires the restraint.
Maybe he’s different from the guys I’ve been with before—guys who rush into things without a second thought.
“It’s just ... I like to take things slow.”
Jake’s lip bite .
Am I blushing?
Where’s my drink?
I’m definitely sweating.
“Take things slow?” I flirt back.
Anna sets the drink in front of me, and I flinch.
I was wrapped up in that flirty fucking moment.
I hate how attracted I am to this guy.
I grab for my drink, staring down at it, needing to regain my composure.
“Ready to order?” Anna asks, blissfully unaware of the heated moment she just stepped into.
Jake gestures toward me.
“Gnocchi bolognese,” I order.
“Pork chop milanese,” Jake says, turning back to me with warm eyes.
“What do you think about starting with carpaccio?” I nod.
“And carpaccio, please.”
He says both dishes correctly.
The plot thickens with Jake .
There’s more to him than his looks.
I kind of wish he was just surface level and boring.
That’s easier.
But now, I’m intrigued.
Anna leaves, and I turn my attention back to him.
“Your pronunciation was impressive.”
“Is that a compliment without any snark?” he asks, raising an eyebrow before sipping his drink.
“Snark?” I feign innocence.
“All of your compliments have had little digs in them so far.”
I sip my Negroni, smiling back.
“So, tell me … do you have a thing for single moms?”
“Deflecting is a tell for you, in case you didn’t know,” he cooly says, tapping his glass with mine.
“You’re smarter than I was anticipating,” I tease, taking another sip of my drink, giving him that snark.
“Why do you think I’m smart?” he asks with a sly smile.
“Because you know how your acting works.”
“I’m not acting.”
“Time will tell.”
“Acting hard to get is very sexy.”
“I’m not acting.”
“Time will tell.” He chuckles, clearly amused with himself.
But I’m amused too, laughing, smiling.
“I go to High Five a couple of times a month. I’m surprised I’ve never seen you.”
“I work weekday day shifts. On weekends, when my daughter is with her dad, I’ll pick up a shift or two.”
“I’m not much of a day drinker. Really, not that much of a drinker. Just here and there.”
“Same.”
“Carpaccio,” Anna’s voice breaks through.
“If you make a raw meat joke, you’re losing some points,” I tease, staring at the dish.