Chapter 25
Justin
I owe Galvin big time for this favor. I hadn’t thought of Bynard’s until sometime this afternoon. For a Friday night in prime summer, getting a seat at the bar would be iffy. A reservation is impossible.
Not impossible.
Galvin is part owner and their head chef.
Not a bad accomplishment for a guy who isn’t yet thirty-three years of age.
We razzed him in high school when he took cooking classes at the nearby career institute.
It’s a place open to multiple school districts that offers classes specializing in anything from vet tech, to landscaping, to culinary arts. They even have a restaurant.
Even though we teased Galvin, he knew his passion.
And for the record, just because the guy cooks, it doesn’t mean he couldn’t play football and softball with the best of us.
While his parents don’t have a lot, they wanted to help him.
One summer he went to a cooking camp. Honestly, I don’t remember what it was called, only that he barely lived it down.
Turned out, the camp was a magnet camp for top culinary schools in the country.
Galvin was offered a full scholarship to The Culinary Institute of America.
Our friend spent four years in New York.
Not only did he study, but he also had two internships at top New York City restaurants.
Lucky for those of us back in Indiana, he decided to come back home. His talents were sought after by bigger restaurants in Indianapolis and Evansville. The couple who opened Bynard’s about six years ago knew Galvin when he was in New York.
The fucker is now part owner and head chef.
He is one of my friends who hasn’t yet found the love of his life in the form of a human. He found it early on in his quest for a career. Let’s just say, we don’t razz him anymore.
With Devan on my arm, I approach the hostess stand.
“Reservations?” the hostess asks skeptically.
“Yes, two for Sheers.”
Peering through her rhinestone-studded readers, the woman scans her tablet until her scowl morphs to a smile. “Yes.” She reaches for menus and takes a step away from the stand. “You have one of our nicest tables, Mr. and Mrs. Sheers. We hope you enjoy your dinner. Please follow me.”
Devan holds tight to my arm as we are led through a maze of tables, then through large glass doors to a patio.
Strings of lights are overhead. The hostess takes us to a table for two near the railing of the patio.
Lake Monroe is a reflection of the colorful clouds, our picturesque view as the sky overhead darkens.
Before I can do it, the hostess pulls out a chair for Devan.
By the time she unfolds our napkins and places them on our laps, I’m over the VIP attention.
When she finally walks away, my agitation disappears into Devan’s laughter. “She was something else.”
“If I ever forget how to place my own napkin, I know where to come.”
My girl looks all around. “Justin, this is amazing.” Her gaze comes back to me, and her forehead furrows.
“Talk to me.”
“Who did you plan to bring here?”
“What? You.”
She shakes her head. “I remember prom. We tried to get reservations, and they were booked months in advance. Since we became official two days ago…”
My cheeks rise. “You, Devan Dunn. I’ve been secretly stalking you for months.”
I love how easily she blushes.
Reaching across the table, I lay my hand palm up. Slowly, she places her hand in mine. “The chef, who is also one of the owners, is one of my best friends. I called him today.”
“Today,” she says in amazement.
“This was planned only for you.”
We’ve opened a bottle of wine, and we’re sharing a plate of calamari. We’ve ordered our meals but asked for the waiter to take his time. The sky overhead is dark and beyond the stringed lights, other lights reflect on the reservoir’s mirror-like surface.
“Did you hear what the hostess called us when she brought us back to the table?” I ask.
Devan nods with a grin. “Mr. and Mrs.”
“I never thought there would be a Mrs. Sheers. I mean, other than my mom.”
“Now?”
“For the first time, I see the possibility.” I shake my head. “I’m not rushing you, Devan. I’m just overwhelmed…and you should know it’s because of you.” I lower my voice. “You decide the speed. I’ll wait as long as you want.”
Pink intensifies on her cheeks as Devan looks down. When her gaze meets mine, there’s a spark simmering in her light brown orbs. “I have a secret.”
“You do?”
She nods.
“Are you going to make me guess?”
“No. I wasn’t planning on telling you until later in our dinner…” Her words come faster. “Well, if I told you at all. That is part of the debate. I’m not sure if I should, but now I’ve started and…”
Again, I reach across the table. “Whatever has you this nervous can wait if you want.”
Devan covers my hand with hers. Her voice is so soft I strain to hear. And when I do, I wonder if I heard her correctly. “Excuse me,” I say.
Her neck and face are now the color of a fire engine. “You heard me.”
Shit, my dick is growing. “Tell me again.”
“I’m not wearing panties.”
Lifting my hand, I call, “Check please.”
“No,” Devan says with a giggle. “You brought me to the best restaurant in the state. I want my filet.”
“Nope, sorry. We’re leaving.”
Her embarrassment fades into humor as she takes a drink of her water.
“Sir,” our waiter says, appearing from nowhere. “Is there a problem?”
“Yes.”
“No,” Devan corrects. “We’re great.”
I nod. “We’re great, but the kitchen can hurry with our order.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I may have to take mine to go,” I say after he leaves. “I can’t think of anything else other than what you just said.” I look around. “On second thought, we’ll be here all night. I’m afraid without a moving tote, I may never be able to leave this chair.”
Devan lifts her wine glass. “To less-erotic thoughts.”
Erotic.
We clink our glasses. “You’re killing me.”
“I’d rather have you around for a long time.”
Somehow, I manage to eat my meal, and Devan does the same. When the waiter asks if we’d like dessert, I’m not even polite enough to ask Devan if she does. My answer is that I do, but what I want isn’t served on the menu. I don’t say that. I simply say no and ask for the check.
Gripping Devan’s hand, I take her out into the parking lot. As I open my truck, I’m struck with the reality that we are two adults who live with our parents. Half of Riverbend may have lost their V card in the Gordons’ barn, but that was when they were teenagers.
Devan Dunn isn’t a teenager.
I don’t know the status of her V card; however, I know what she is or isn’t wearing under her dress. Now I’m wondering where we could go. Once I’m behind the wheel, I let out a long breath and lay my head against the seat. “For the first time in years, I’m upset I don’t have my own place.”
She reaches for me. “I don’t care where we go. I want to be with you.”
With me.
“That question I had…”
Devan grins. “Get me alone.” She looks around. “Not in a parking lot, and we can talk about it. If talking is what you want to do.”
The obvious answer is also not the best. Nevertheless, I can’t come up with any other options.
When I pull up to a hotel from a large chain, Devan’s eyes open too wide. “Justin, I-I need to go home tonight. My parents…”
“I’m not pressuring you. I just want to be alone where we can’t be interrupted. Fuck. We can only talk if you want.” I reach for her hand. “Trust me?”
“I do.”
Devan stands to my side as I pay for a room.
This is new territory for me. I’ve never done something like this.
Yes, I’ve had sex, but it was in the truck or barn or out under the stars.
Or it was in the girl’s bedroom, but checking into a hotel room with a beautiful woman at my side and no luggage—that’s new.
She’s quiet as we ride the elevator to the seventh floor.
“I’m not wearing panties.” Her words are on a repeat track in my head. It takes all my willpower to not give that more thought. I could think about it less if she wasn’t so damn close, the warmth of her body leaning against my arm.
Following the numbered signs, we find room 715.
The card makes the lock turn green. Twisting the handle, I open the door.
The room is a standard-fare hotel room. A closet, bathroom, and bedroom.
A king-sized bed.
“Are you all right?” I ask as she follows me into the room.
“I trust you.”
Good. I’m not sure I can trust myself.