15. The Good Date
15
THE GOOD DATE
KEATON
Vegas at night lit up like daytime, which to the two of us, buzzed and feeling good, became a hilarious joke. Sophie let loose, laughing and shouting out the moon window, “Good Morning!” to people on the street at midnight. I couldn’t take my eyes off of her.
To make things more interesting tonight, we got all dressed up in the clothes we’d intended to wear to the wedding—because, by her way of thinking, what if there wasn’t a wedding the next day? It would have been a waste of space in our luggage, having brought the garments all this way.
I agreed with her. How’d I get so lucky to end up with her? And why couldn’t she have been a bachelorette on Brewed for Love? Partnering with our brains and her beauty and my brawn, we could have won the show. There was no comparison at all between Sophie and Vanessa. Or Sophie and Cassandra. Or Starla or Melanie—the entire lot of them. Sophie reigned far superior.
But I was entirely biased after consuming so many drinks tonight.
So I wore my suit, the one Richard bought for me to wear to important meetings, and she wore a silver strapless mini dress in a shiny fabric that I couldn’t keep my hands off of all night. Her black stockings had seams up the back, teasing me like landing strips under her dress anytime she walked in front of me.
I vowed to myself to that by the end of the night, my hands would take a trip up those seams, under her dress…
We took full advantage of Richard’s black card status, not that I couldn’t have treated Sophie to a night on the town myself. But throwing around the Buchanan name got us into certain places.
Grand Cru seated us for a 5-star French Cuisine dinner for two without a reservation. At an intimate table, we split a pricey bottle of champagne. I learned Sophie liked to share meals. And by share, that meant sneaking her fork to my plate for a bite of my Beef Bourguignon, although she was generous to do the same for me from her plate of Confit de Canard.
The Omnia Nightclub let us in ahead of the long line. We danced song after song, or rather I often stood there scowling at every other man who dared come near her. To end our night there, we splurged and tried a Gold Standard Cosmo together.
One sip and I knew. “Not for me. I’ll stick with my brews, thank you.” Although the taste reminded me of a Tequila Sunrise, I preferred malt and hops over sweetened liquor.
“Then you leave me no choice but to drink this entire thing all on my own. Although it’s almost too pretty to drink. Look at the gold flecks floating inside of it. Like little fishes,” her words slurred. It mesmerized her like a tropical fish tank.
I realized my mistake. She was almost drunk. And if I wanted to continue our party for two in our room, if Lady Luck would be on my side, then I needed Sophie fully aware, senses not dulled. To take advantage of her while intoxicated wasn’t my thing.
“You know what? I think you’re right. We don’t drink the rest. We let the gold flake fishes live. But I can take a few photos of you holding it like you own it,” I suggested and held up my phone.
“Yes, yes, please.” Her three words shot right to my groin.
“There you go, boss babe. Work it. Own it.” I snapped multiple photos as she posed and giggled. We agreed unanimously to post the one I took of us, the best of the bunch, onto our social media accounts.
She labeled hers, “Having fun with this man.” I labeled mine, “A night to remember with her.”
We said goodbye to the pretty drink, and we left.
I had our driver stop at a cheap diner on the way back to the hotel. It reminded me of Flora’s at home, but filthier. Didn’t seem to faze Sophie. We sat in a corner booth and ordered cups of black coffee. At the last minute, she begged the server for a cinnamon roll.
“Hm, I think the batch just came in for tomorrow morning. I suppose I could snag you one, hun,” the server drawled. Arguably, this would be the cheapest part of our night.
“The one with the most icing would be fabulous,” Sophie batted her long lashes to get what she wanted. Pretty sure that works on me, too. “When I was little , on rare special occasions, my mom would bring me to a tiny diner like this and we’d split a roll.”
“Is your mom still around?” I asked. She rarely talked of her family and shifted in her seat.
“Yep. At some Italian Villa with husband number three.”
“I see.”
She got quiet, perusing the dessert menu, so I didn’t want to probe further.
“Hey, Soph…” I got her attention and waited until the beautiful brown-eyed woman locked eyes with me. Then I stretched my arm across the table and laced my fingers with hers, like I didn’t get enough of touching her every chance I could. “Tonight was pretty amazing.”
She nodded. A slow smile spreading across her face. “If this was an actual date, it’d be the best one I’ve ever had.”
Just stab me in the heart now. My brow furrowed. “Seemed pretty real to me.”
She tilted her head. “You know what I mean. You asked me to be your fake date to the wedding…”
I licked my lips and took my time to respond. “Maybe at the start, this was all intended to be one way. Would it be such a bad thing if it changed to another way?”
“As in?”
“As in, tonight really counts. Nothing fake about it.”
“Keaton.” Her pretty little mouth formed softly around my name. “I had a great time tonight. If it was real, then it was the best ever.”
“I know I wasn’t faking a thing, Soph. Were you?”
She opened her mouth to respond, but the server arrived. “Here you are. Coffees, roll, cream. Need anything else, folks?” She set everything down. I thanked her, and she left.
“Mm, so good, ” Sophie moaned at her first bite, and used her word for anything that made her insanely happy with the cheap cinnamon roll piled high with icing. Her moans didn’t stop until the entire roll was gone. Each bite of her lips wrapped around the fork spoke right to my cock. “Little diners like this make the best food, and this coffee hits the spot.”
I enjoyed hearing that. I didn’t see Sophie as the money-grabbing woman who demanded the finer things in life. With Hops, I made good money over the years. Through smart budgeting and investments, I’d saved as much as I could, building an impressive nest egg for my age. With a nationwide distribution deal, my income would skyrocket, and my investments could rise into the millions. I could treat her to nice things more often.
What the hell was I thinking? My goal tonight consisted of getting her to forget the pillow wall, not anything permanent.
“Sometime if you’re ever in New York City, I’ll take you to my favorite hole in the wall for pie. It’s almost as good as Flora’s,” she said, savoring her last bite.
See? She also knew there could be an end to us soon.
A return to our lives before we met.
What even was my life before her? Before she invaded my office at Hops, my hometown, my every thought, and my life. I wouldn’t be able to work at my brewery without thinking of her.
I failed to understand why men would pass her up, treat her badly, or not show her a good time. Their loss, my gain, unless there’s something big I haven’t uncovered about her yet.
“Tell me about some of these horrible dates you’ve been on,” I press.
“You don’t want to hear about those.” She added more cream to her cup.
“I do. You heard about Starla and Cassandra. Those are my stories. Share two of yours with me.”
She scoffed and shook her head. “Okay. Fine. Two truths and a lie.”
“This again? Considering I won the last time, lay it on me.”
She nodded. “Number one. When I was a senior in high school, I was on a date with a college student I’d met, only to find the guy actually intended to kidnap me and demand ransom from my family.”
I smirked. “You made it way too easy. I already think that’s the lie.”
“Number two. My date had to stop for cash on the way, but ended up being overdrawn, so I had to pay for the date. Surprisingly, that has happened on about fifty percent of the dates I’ve been on.”
“Hm. Big red flags there, huh? I can assure you neither of those have I ever done on a date. And number three?”
“One date was a definite no for me, only he turned into a stalker and continued to follow me everywhere for a year, to where I had to have a bodyguard.”
I jerked back. “Soph? That’s terrible. Now I’m stumped. I’d like to think one and three are lies.”
“Most of my dates are just a pleasant chat over drinks. Not a big deal, but then somehow the ones I like, they ghost me. I never heard from or see them again. I think I’m too much for the average man. Too driven in my career. Too passionate about what I do. I used to think it was a me-problem, but now I realize it’s their problem. I am who I am and I like me.”
“To be very clear, I’m not your average guy. And your passion? Bring it on. I’m way too impressed with you to be put off by it. You know how highly I regard you, right?”
Her smile flatlined. “The world needs more men like you, Keaton. No wonder all the women from the show want you. Why couldn’t we have met before?”
“Because we’re meeting now. Things happen for a reason.” This was it. Time to lay my cards on the table, right here in Vegas, at a cheap corner diner. So romantic. “Soph, these past several weeks, if you can’t tell, I’ve gotten really into you. Yes, this weekend started out as a favor to me, you pretending to be my date. But somewhere along the way, I think I started falling for you.”
I caught the fear in her eyes as, once again, the server had the worst timing in the world. “Here’s your bill. Pay up at the register. Have a good night, folks.”
“I’ll pay. It’s getting late. We should go.” Sophie grabbed it and jumped out of the booth, rushing to the front. Faster on my feet, I reached her side and plucked the bill from her hand.
“I’ll be paying.” I already had a twenty in my hand and handed it over to the server. “Keep the change. There, Soph. Now you can say I’m at least better than fifty percent of the dates you’ve been on because I had cash.”
Her bottom lip trembled as if about to cry when she stepped outside and I followed, worried, right as thunder rumbled. Rain poured down, and we huddled under the awning of the diner, waiting for our car to return.
Drops still hit us. I had my jacket on my arm, so I draped it over our heads to keep us dry, bringing us closer. She couldn’t run from me now.
I leaned in and called her out. “Must be so scary. You finally find a decent man like me and you don’t know what to do, being treated so well.”
“You’re right. It scares the hell out of me.”
“Then you know what we do?” I cupped her chin, tilting it up to meet mine. “We take it one day at a time together. See where this leads.” My lips landed on hers in a sweet and sensual kiss, careful not to push too hard. But now that I almost have her, I couldn’t lose her.
“Maisy would call it fucking around and finding out,” she purred.
“We can do that, too. I’m all for a little fucking around. So is that a yes? We can make this thing between us real?”
She searched my eyes as if riding a fence, unsure which side to land on.
“Don’t overthink it, Soph. Just go with it.”
“Yes, Keaton,” she whispered on my lips, the answer I wanted.
I deepened the kiss, slipping my hand behind her neck possessively, anchoring her to me beneath the shelter of my jacket. Rain? What rain? I only focused on the heat of her mouth, the cinnamon swirl on her tongue, and the way her body melded to mine.
This wasn’t pretend. Not even close.
Her hands ran up my shirt, balling at my collar. She clung to me like she had to in order to believe in how real this was.
When we finally broke apart, her cheeks flushed, her lashes dampened from the rain, and her mouth kiss-swollen—the most beautiful woman in the world to me, inside and out. I’d do just about anything for her.
“How do you feel now?” I asked.
“Terrified,” she breathed and chuckled. “But I’m here with you. Right where I want to be.”
“Good girl. Now let’s get back to the hotel. Quickly,” I growled, anticipating giving her a night that no other man in the past five years could do.