Chapter Four
I send an urgent text to my best friend, Phoebe, as I get ready to meet Aiden for coffee:
I’m about to do something incredibly dangerous and you need to virtually bitch-slap me and tell me not to do it.
I set my phone on the marble countertop of my bathroom. I left Casino Night early, an hour ahead of Aiden, so nobody would see us leaving at the same time, and dashed home to my apartment on Biscayne Boulevard, changing out of my evening gown and into a much more casual outfit.
I pause and stare at my reflection. I love fashion, and I love dressing up, so maybe this isn’t “casual.” But it’s definitely not an evening gown with Black Swan feathers, so there’s that.
I’ve changed into a mocha-colored sleeveless sequined top that shimmers beautifully in the light.
It’s slightly cropped, so it reveals a hint of my stomach, and paired with a cognac-brown leather miniskirt and tall brown boots.
I pulled my hair back into a tight knot at the nape of my neck, and redid my makeup, too.
Simple diamond stud earrings are my only accessory.
Oh, who am I kidding. It’s definitely a date outfit.
For my “it’s nothing but coffee” date with Aiden.
I bite my lip, glancing at my phone. Phoebe would tell me this is wrong.
If she answers.
Since I graduated from college this past spring, I can feel my friends drifting away from me.
We all went in different directions—some are still back in Connecticut at college, finishing up their degrees.
Others moved to different cities, like I did, to start their professional lives.
Or in Phoebe’s case, she’s in her first year of graduate school in Vermont.
At first, we were all active in our group chats. Then they started to trail off, and now it’s been simple likes or quick comments on each other’s Connectivity posts.
I miss my friends.
Especially Phoebe. We were so close in school, doing everything together. We shared laughs. Tears. Celebrated the wins and consoled each other on the losses. We were a daily part of each other’s lives.
Until we weren’t.
A wave of sadness surges through me. At first, we were both busy with new lives. Phoebe moving to Vermont, and me to Miami. Our messages weren’t multiple times a day; they became once a day.
Then once a day became a message sent on occasion.
Or rarely at all.
I miss Phoebe. I swallow at the knowledge that we really aren’t best friends anymore. Which makes me sad, but I have to accept that we haven’t been close for a long time.
But it’s not just Pheobe I miss.
I miss having friends nearby. People who can grab a coffee or go shopping with me. Someone who can come over for dinner and talk over a glass of wine or hang out on a lazy Saturday and watch movies.
But it’s been so much harder to make friends in the real world than I ever dreamed it would be.
It’s not optimal to be friends with coworkers.
Friendly? Sure. But I make it a practice to keep it at that.
I’ve gone to some activities for meeting people—like I took a sip-and-paint class once—but a lot of the people there already knew each other, and I felt like I was intruding on their friendship time.
Then there was the disaster when I volunteered at a food bank, where I was scheduled to work a shift with a large group of girls from a scouting organization.
I mean, they were incredible girls, and we did a lot of great work, but when I hoped to meet new people, I was optimistic they would be over the age of ten.
UGH.
Maybe that’s why I’m risking so much to meet Aiden for coffee, I muse. I want that friend connection, and Aiden is offering that to me.
Suddenly there’s a loud squeak coming from Mochi in my bedroom. “Even you know that’s a lie, don’t you, Mochi?” I call out to him.
Now Matcha squeaks, and I shake my head. Even my chinchillas know I’m full of crap. I’m attracted to Aiden, and that’s exactly why I’m going to have coffee with him.
He’s gorgeous. Intriguing. Sweet. Even though nothing more can ever come of it, I want this moment in time all the same.
I pick up my phone, knowing Phoebe isn’t going to answer right away, and walk back out to my bedroom, ready to go to meet Aiden at the Hotel Fredrico bar for a cup of coffee.
I pause by the chinchilla cage and smile at my boys, who are busy playing with each other.
“All right, boys, be good. Mommy is going to do something incredibly dangerous, and hopefully I won’t get burned by it. ”
Buzz!
I flip the phone over in my hand, wondering if Phoebe has incredible timing and is going to tell me not to go. But when I see the name flashed up on my screen, my stomach flips excitedly in response.
It’s not Phoebe.
It’s Aiden. We exchanged numbers before we headed to the blackjack table, and apparently, Aiden has decided to use mine.
I quickly read his message:
Waiting for my car at the valet. Should be at the hotel in 20ish. You still good with the location?
Aiden suggested a hotel lobby bar rather than a regular coffee spot, thinking it would most likely be quieter—and less full of people. I text him back:
I think The Lobby Bar is perfect. I’m about to leave my place. I’ve changed out of the Black Swan dress, so you won’t have to pluck any more feathers out of my hair. LOL.
Then I hit send.
Aiden Wentworth is typing …
My stomach does a little happy dance when I see his name flash across my phone again. Finally, his message drops in:
Gotcha. My hairstyling service is no longer needed this evening.
HE IS SO CLEVER, WHY IS THAT SO HOT?
I message back as I make my way toward my front door:
Well, it could be needed if there is some kind of extreme weather condition.
Like a hurricane. I’ve restyled my hair since you’ve seen me.
It’s tightly pulled back now, and I’m not sure if your styling skills extend to a slicked-back bun held in place with a lot of pins and a stupid amount of product. Trust me, it’s not going to move.
I hit send and let myself out, locking the door behind me. I catch the elevator and press the level for the parking garage. Since it’s coffee, there’s no need to call a rideshare, and I like to drive, so I’m happy to drive myself over to the Hotel Fredrico.
Buzz!
I slide behind the wheel of my car and lock the doors, starting the engine before I look down at my phone.
Aiden has replied:
If we’re facing hurricane-force winds, I think I’d put hairstyling aside for something else.
Hmm, what does that mean?
Aiden Wentworth is typing …
Because I’d be more concerned about protecting you.
OHHHHHHHHHHHH MYYYYYYYYYYYYYYY GODDDDDDDD.
Meeting him for coffee has just become a very, very bad idea because if this is what he’s like in texts, if I’m already swooning over him, what am I going to do after an hour’s worth of conversation?
I’m going to have a mad crush on him, that’s what.
And it’s a crush that will never ever develop into anything.
I deflate a bit as reality hits me like a two-by-four smacking me over the head.
But defiance rises to the occasion, not willing to let go of this amazing excitement, this fizzy feeling that Aiden is giving me.
I’m allowed to have tonight. I’m allowed to have these feelings, to have a great conversation with Aiden, and maybe even flirt with him a bit.
I set my jaw in determination as I leave the building garage. I don’t ever remember having this kind of initial reaction to a man before. Even to some of the guys I dated in college.
I deserve to have this night.
And that’s exactly what I’m going to do.
* * *
I arrive at the Hotel Fredrico, my body practically humming in anticipation.
As I walk into the glamorous resort hotel, I’m greeted with a stunning Christmas display in the lobby.
A huge tree is the focal point, twinkling with white lights and filled with glittering ornaments in gold and red.
A glass table is in front of it, with a gorgeous arrangement of fresh flowers in red and white.
Holiday music floats through the air, and it’s hard not to feel excited for Christmas when I take it all in.
I take a moment to text Aiden:
I’m here. I’ll be waiting for you at The Lobby Bar.
Once I find the place, that is.
I look to my left, where there’s a sleek counter for guest check-in and concierge services.
To my right, across the marble floor, is a dark and seductive-looking bar, filled with sumptuous-looking leather chairs and dark wood tables.
Behind the bar itself are large floor-to-ceiling windows that provide panoramic views of the turquoise waters of Miami Beach, framed by palm trees dressed in twinkling white lights.
It’s chic. Stunning. Sexy.
And the perfect place for my one night of enjoying the company of Aiden Wentworth.
I head in the direction of the bar, my heels clicking against the marble floor.
I walk the few steps down to the entrance, stepping onto the hardwood floor, and am greeted by the sounds of jazz music.
I find a cozy-looking table for two and take a seat.
As soon as I sink down into the rich, leather club chair, excitement and nerves fully take over my body.
I place my purse on the table and set my phone in front of me.
A server approaches me. “Good evening, welcome to The Lobby Bar,” she says, placing a black cocktail napkin down on the shiny tabletop. “I’m Dani, and I’ll be your server. Would you like to take a look at our cocktail menu?”
“No, thank you, I’ll just be having a cup of coffee,” I say, smiling at her.
“Very well. Cream and sugar?” she asks.
“Yes, please. Thank you.”
Dani retreats from the table, and I take a breath of air to settle my nerves. I stare down at the flickering votive in front of me, watching the light reflect off the cut edges of the crystal holder, the flame dancing as wildly as I feel my heart beating inside my chest.
Soon Dani returns to the table, setting a steaming cup of coffee in front of me, along with a small pitcher filled with half-and-half and a fancy holder filled with all kinds of options to sweeten my coffee. “Do you need anything else?” she asks.
“Someone will be joining me shortly, so when he arrives, he’ll probably want a cup of coffee, too. But I’ll let him order when he gets here.”
“Very well,” she says, smiling at me.
She leaves, and I tear open a packet of raw sugar and dump it into my coffee, then add a hefty amount of half-and-half. I pick up the spoon and swirl it in, and just by the aroma I can tell this is high quality. It smells divine.
I take a sip, and I was right. It’s delicious coffee. I set my cup back down on the saucer as my phone vibrates on the table. I excitedly check the screen, and it’s a message from Aiden:
Walking in now.
AHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
I text him back:
The Lobby Bar is on your right. I’m sitting toward the back, right-hand side.
Aiden Wentworth is typing …
I don’t think I could miss you, Scarlett.
OHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
The butterflies are crazed now, dancing furiously in my stomach as I wait for Aiden to stroll in. I put my phone inside my purse and absently run my finger around the rim of my coffee cup, trying to appear calm and composed when inside I’m anything but.
I dare to glance toward the front of the bar, and then I suck in a breath of air. Aiden is headed my way.
The suit jacket is gone, along with the tie. The white dress shirt remains, the crisp, white fabric stretching across his broad chest and large shoulders. I can now see his waist and muscular thighs better, hugged by the navy fabric of his suit trousers.
I lift my gaze to his face, and that wayward lock of hair is back, nearly grazing his eyebrow, and when he spots me, the corners of his mouth curve into a full smile.
I push my chair back, rising from my seat to greet him. As soon as I stand up, Aiden stops walking. His eyes flicker over me, and then I watch as his lips part a bit in surprise.
Aiden likes what he sees, I think excitedly.
Then he shakes his head, as if banishing whatever thought was running through it, and resumes walking toward me, the smile—and dimple—back on his face.
That combination is going to be the end of me tonight.
“Sorry,” Aiden says softly. “I was distracted for a moment.”
“By my outfit change?” I ask, retaking my seat.
“Definitely by your outfit,” he says, his smile growing wider as he takes the seat across from me. “I like it, Scarlett. I like it a lot.”
Everything in me goes electric from his praise. “Thank you,” I say, smiling back at him. “I think I like your outfit update as well.”
He chuckles at that, a low, delicious sound that reverberates across the table. “It’s the white dress shirt, isn’t it?”
I study him for a moment. The shirt is unbuttoned at his throat, revealing his creamy, pale skin. “I confess to liking a crisp, white dress shirt,” I say, picking up my coffee and taking a sip. “I can see it much better without the suit jacket and tie.”
The server appears at our table and asks Aiden what she can get him.
He orders a cup of coffee as well, and she leaves to go get it.
As soon as she’s out of sight, Aiden stares at me from underneath his long, dark eyelashes.
“Scarlett, there’s a part of me that thinks it’s crazy that I’m here with you right now,” he says softly.
“I know who you are. And I know what that means.”
My heart tumbles into my stomach. I know it, too, but why does it make me wince when I hear Aiden say it?
“So why did you want to meet me?” I ask softly, my finger once again tracing the rim of the coffee cup.
“Because I couldn’t let you go without knowing who you are,” he says simply.
I stare at him, stunned by his words. Aiden wants to know who I am. Even if it will never go beyond a cup of coffee, he had to know me.
“Is this crazy, Scarlett?” he asks.
“Yes,” I answer. “But I want to know you, too.”
Our eyes meet. An electric feeling sweeps over me the second I stare into Aiden’s gray eyes.
“We are crazy,” he says.
“Then we’ll be crazy together tonight.”
The server returns and places a cup of coffee in front of Aiden, along with more half-and-half. “Thank you,” he murmurs.
As soon as she leaves, his attention returns to me. “So we’ve got coffee, we’re tucked away in a hotel bar, far from the prying eyes of the public,” he says, his voice low. “And we both want to be here tonight.”
“Yes.”
“Then there’s only one thing left to do.”
“What’s that?”
“Tell me your story, Scarlett. Because I need to know it.”