Chapter 2
Sydney
“Genevieve, I don’t think I can do this.”
“You’ve got this, Syd. You said it yourself. It’s time. You just need to rip that celibate Band-aid off and get back on a dick… I mean, get back on the stick.”
“Oh, good Lord.” Dropping my head against the steering wheel in frustration, I groan at the very thought of walking inside this restaurant. I can’t believe I’m meeting a stranger I matched with on a dating app.
My sweet friend drops her tone, providing almost motherly reassurance. “It’s going to be okay, Sydney. I know it’s hard to get back out there. But you’re a sweet, smart, sexy woman. You’re going to knock this guy’s socks off. And if he doesn’t do it for you, be kind and try to enjoy your dinner.” Her verbal hug gives me the boost I need. Almost .
“You’re right. I know I’m being a big baby. I just never imagined two years ago—”
“That you’d ever have to consider dating again? I know, sweetie. But it is what it is.”
Hearing my marriage reduced to it is what it is forces a frustrated groan from my lips.
I adore my dear friend, so I know she doesn’t mean anything by it. She’s only trying to downplay any emotions keeping me from moving forward.
“Come on, Syd. The guy seemed to tick all of your boxes. And he’s hot. Enjoy some good food and good wine across from a sexy man. If there aren’t any sparks, you still get to enjoy a great night out. It beats another lonely one in a bubble bath with a book boyfriend.”
Well, that’s her opinion.
My favorite nights are just that. Who doesn’t like a soak in a warm tub after a long day? Plus, book boyfriends don’t let you down. They guarantee a happily ever after. Heck, unlike the men in my life, on the off chance a book boyfriend screws up, they’ll at least bring some first-class grovel.
“Listen,” Genni’s voice is even softer, more cajoling now. “You only have to text me an S.O.S. and I’ll call to give you an excuse to bolt. But you have to take this first step. Put yourself back out there. Do you have any idea what a catch you are? Brilliant and beautiful, you’re any man’s wet dream.”
Apparently, any man but one.
“Oh, please, Genni.”
“You are! You’re a blonde bombshell and a successful general surgeon, to boot. What guy wouldn’t think he hit the lottery meeting you?”
The truth of the matter is, I’d never enjoyed dating before I met my ex-husband. Maybe it was merely wrong people, wrong time, but most of my social connections with men were awkward and uncomfortable. Even on the rare occasion there was a mild spark, moving forward with a relationship felt like forcing a square peg into a round hole.
Genevieve and our friends, Carol Ann and Pepper, tried to convince me that most of the men I’d dated were likely intimidated. It takes a self-assured man to date a hot surgeon and not constantly worry he doesn’t measure up , Genni had pronounced, trying to reassure me after a string of bad dates.
Carol Ann has her own unique way of offering encouragement. Southern to her core, she can always find a way to make me laugh instead of cry. When I’d shared how I’d met an attractive man who was an engaging conversationalist and hoped a second date was on the horizon, only to have him conveniently leave his wallet at home, she’d replied in true Carol Ann style. Good grief. Dumber than a sack of hammers. Did he really think you were that stupid? You should’ve gone to the bathroom and left him to wash dishes.
Yet from the moment I met Matteo, it felt so natural. Easy. Unlike most of the men I’d dated previously, he wasn’t from my social circle. We both worked with our hands, but while I wielded a scalpel, he used power tools in a body shop.
Matteo was accomplished, running a successful business. Yet, he didn’t come from old money, so my family couldn’t understand the allure. I’d been raised with a silver spoon in my mouth, attended the best schools, and graced the society pages in couture gowns at various charity galas.
Matteo never attended college, moved to the states keeping a low profile, sharing very little about his homeland or family, and worked long hours covered in grease. My mother had quipped that the nicest thing she could find to say about my husband was that it appeared all of his tattoos were spelled correctly. Who knew she was such a Steel Magnolias fan?
But we connected in a way I couldn’t explain. We each worked hard, grateful to fall into the other at the end of a long day. He respected my career, as I did his. Sure, we weren’t married long, so probably hadn’t had the opportunity to fight over mundane things such as finances or leaving the toilet seat up as other couples might. Yet we were happy.
Until it was suddenly over.
“Okay, Sydney. It’s 6:59. If you don’t hang up and go inside, you’re going to be late. Go enjoy a glass of vino, order the most expensive thing on the menu, and call me when you get home.”
“All right, all right. I’m going.”
“Go. Relax. And have fun.”
“I will. Bye.”
Locking my car, I slide my clutch beneath my arm and make my way to the entrance of Buckhead’s. I’ve never dined here before but had heard great things about the Chop House. The outside of the restaurant isn’t much to look at. It’s located in a strip mall, a carpet emporium flanking one side and a bakery on the other. However, the moment I open the door, I’m enveloped in the aroma of buttery steak and rich spices.
The space is dimly lit with small candles dancing atop each table. The soft cream linens are a stylish juxtaposition against the deep mahogany furnishings and bar. And the chic overhead brass lighting provides the perfect complement to the large room.
Approaching the hostess stand, I run my hand down the side of my red knee length cocktail dress and try to tamp down my nerves. This is ridiculous. What is wrong with me? I completed four years of medical school, seven years of residency, plus a surgical fellowship. Why would a simple date be this intimidating?
I try to ignore the devil on my shoulder, whispering not to bother. That the best of my romantic life is behind me. That I had the love of my life, yet wasn’t enough for him to stay. The allure of being single, free to date whomever he liked, particularly women who didn’t push for more, was far too appealing.
Shake this off, Sydney. It’s his loss. You did nothing wrong. I replay Genni’s voice in my head as the aloof young hostess makes eye contact with me. Relax. Have fun. “Hi, I’m supposed to be meeting someone for dinner,” my voice cracks under the strain of my unease.
“What’s your name?” the pretty blonde hostess asks.
“Sydney.”
The corners of her mouth lift in a knowing smile, and her bright blue eyes come alive with a delicious sparkle. “Oh, yes. Right this way.”
Well, this is reassuring. Right?
Following along behind her as we weave through the tables, I notice the restaurant is packed. The food must be good here. I wonder how difficult it was to get a reservation. The question has barely popped from the thought bubble above my head when my eyes widen at the incredibly attractive gentleman standing from his chair. Wow.
Grateful to not have been catfished, I instantly recognize him from his dating app profile. His almost jet-black hair, hypnotic blue eyes, and deep-set dimples peeking through his dark stubble are even more alluring in the flesh.
“Sydney?”
“Yes. Sam?” It’s downright embarrassing how my night has turned around. Just how superficial are you?
As if the tantalizing dimples weren’t enough, Sam’s smile is dazzling. Leaning in, he places a chaste kiss to my cheek, and I admit, I swoon a little. Man, I can’t wait to tell Genni he’s even hotter in person.
Holding my chair out for me, Sam takes a seat. The young hostess offers him both our menus with stars in her eyes. Can’t say I blame her. She starts to walk away when he quickly asks what I’d like to drink. I find a half-empty highball glass sitting beside his plate and grimace, wondering how long he’d been here waiting.
“I’d love a Pinot Grigio, please.”
“Yes, ma’am. Coming right up.” As if she can’t help herself, she looks back in Sam’s direction once more, a deep blush staining her cheeks. I’m tempted to tease him for the effect he’s had on her when he distracts me with a question.
“Do you enjoy wine tasting or just grab a glass with a meal once in a while?”
It’s an odd icebreaker, but I appreciate the easy conversation. “Oh, I haven’t been to a vineyard or a wine expo in years. My schedule’s been so chaotic. But I love indulging in a glass once I’m home relaxing.”
“Is Pinot Grigio your preference?”
“Usually. But white or red, I appreciate a good wine. Although I haven’t found a dessert wine I like yet.”
Sam shines that megawatt grin as a server deposits my glass. “Well, we’ll have to fix that. My family owns a local vineyard. Saude Creek. I’ll have to give you a private tour when you’re free.”
“Oh, that’d be amazing.” An unfamiliar excitement stirs within me for the first time in so long. Wow. This isn’t so bad after all.
“It’s been in my family for years.” His proud countenance seems to falter a bit. “My parents inherited it from my grandfather when I was young. It was successful when they acquired it, but it’s far from what it was when my grandfather managed it. Their hearts just weren’t in it.” Lifting his crystal tumbler to his lips, he takes a sip, seeming to gather himself. “They didn’t appreciate the value in the vineyard as he did.”
His head appears to fall under the weight of the disappointment in that situation. “I have a lot of work to do, but I’m determined to get it back to what it was in its heyday.” Sam peers up at me with an almost hopeful expression, flashing that tantalizing smile in my direction. In that moment, I can’t help but think this man could probably accomplish anything he set his mind to.
Handing me a menu with a flirty wink, we break from his unusually heavy revelation to review the selections. After quickly scanning the options, my eyes wander to the tables around us and my stomach nearly growls. Everything looks and smells fantastic. I settle on the petite filet with Bearnaise sauce and Sam orders the ribeye. He adds a side of asparagus in Hollandaise and crusty bread to share.
I have to admit I’m more than a little shocked at how easy this has become, slipping into a relaxed exchange with this mere stranger. Is it purely his looks and charisma? As attractive as he may be, I haven’t felt the immediate spark between us I had when meeting Matteo. Yet maybe the lingering hurt of my husband’s betrayal has created a force field around my heart.
Sam’s gaze drifts from my face to somewhere over my shoulder. I observe him flash a captivating grin at someone behind me. Maybe this vineyard is a pretty big deal. Like he’s a local celebrity or something. Whatever the situation, it only reinforces that force field, protecting me from falling for this charmer. I’ve been there, done that.
Sam’s rich voice breaks through my unwanted memories. “Are you from around here? It’s nice to meet someone who hasn’t heard of the winery.”
Hmm . Why does that sound ominous? “No. I actually grew up in New York. I moved to Virginia for my residency and just never left.” I leave out that my parents are high society old money who want to control every aspect of my life, so the distance was welcome. Unlike him, it feels far too early to share my family drama.
I pick up on an almost imperceptive nod, just as a voluptuous, dark-haired woman strolls by our table and casually lays her fingertips on his shoulder.
“Hi, Sam.”
“Becca,” he answers with a sheepish smirk. He isn’t overly flirtatious, but still more than I’d expect while on a date with someone else. And there’s no doubt this is no casual or business acquaintance.
The server returns with our food, and I welcome the change in focus. The steaks are sizzling on the plate and the aroma is simply decadent. Genni was right. If nothing else, the fantastic meal is worth stepping outside of my comfort zone.
I try to make eye contact with my enigmatic date, smiling in appreciation over the arrival of such a sumptuous meal. Yet, before I can utter a word, I again notice him grinning somewhere in the distance. I wince with irritation. In case you forgot, your date is right here, moron. Once or twice is one thing, but this is a bit much.
Unable to help myself, I follow his line of sight over my right shoulder and notice a gorgeous redhead at the bar openly flirting with Sam. She’s alone, a deep green dress molded to her body like a second skin, her toned legs crossed, and a glass of wine held up to her bright red lips. Had he recognized her from a visit to his vineyard? Or is this a total cad in front of me?
“Would you like another glass of wine?” the server asks.
Yet, as I peer up to answer, I realize the question was directed at Sam, not me. What the hell? He’s not even drinking wine . Again, those dimples are back in full force.
How can someone shift from appearing so engaged in our conversation to openly flirting with almost every woman in the restaurant? I try to push down my growing frustration. Perhaps I’m being too judgmental. Maybe he has to handle the unwanted attention delicately so it won’t hurt his family’s business.
Yeah, right? I suspect this guy’s a total player.
My ire continues to rise at feeling made a fool of, and I interject before Sam can speak. “No. I think I’ve had enough. Thank you.” There’s no hiding the bite in my tone.
“This looks really good, doesn’t it, Sydney?”
“Yes. Yes, it does.” My response it curt, betraying my disappointment at the turn of events. But I deserve better than being disrespected by some ladies’ man. I mean, it wouldn’t shock me to find out he had a wandering eye. But with multiple people during our first date?
At least he isn’t bothering to hide his behavior. The last thing I need is to fall for a guy that’s stringing me along. Saying all the right things, but secretly sleeping with every woman in town.
Maybe Sam’s simply not attracted to me. I should’ve known something was off the minute I laid eyes on him. I mean, why on earth would a guy that looks like this need a dating app?
He picks up his cutlery and begins slicing the tender ribeye before halting momentarily, gathering himself, and placing his utensils back down. “Sydney, I need to apologize. Sometimes when I’m out, I forget myself. I’m so heavily invested in turning my family’s business around that I feel like I’m in constant public relations mode.”
Although my guard is up, his facial expression seems sincere. “Saude Creek has been the location of many a gathering, from wine expos to book launches to town festivals. We’ve gotten a lot of traffic in the past, and I try to make personal connections where I can so people will return to the tasting room. I need to learn how to shut that off. Please forgive me if it appears my attention has been focused elsewhere. I’m really honored to share this evening with you.”
Leaning back in my chair, my shoulders relax a tad at his apology. While my force field is firmly back in place, that’s probably a good thing. I don’t need to get swept off of my feet by a local celebrity playboy. I need to check myself. Use this as an opportunity to dip my toes back in the dating pool. Nothing more. Sam seems nice enough, but he has more than a few red flags waving for my liking.
Picking up my utensils, I cut into my food, and swallow. “Sam, do you mind my asking why you need a dating app, given your popularity?” I selfishly revel in a moment of satisfaction at his look of surprise from my inquiry. I mean, his apology was so on point. Why would any woman dare to question it?
He pauses for a moment. I can’t help but speculate the wheels are likely turning as he attempts to put a better spin on things. “I’m getting older, but not necessarily wiser.” His lopsided smile betrays his obvious embarrassment. It honestly makes him a bit more endearing.
“I need to settle down.” Sam reaches behind his neck as if trying to massage his tense muscles. Like the very thought of settling down is stress provoking. What exactly is he referring to? Does he mean he’s been tearing through women like a boy band on a world tour? Or is he referring to getting married? From his stressed appearance, I’d guess the latter.
“I haven’t made the best choices in female companionship. The app allows me to be more…” He seems to consider his words carefully. “Discerning.” Lifting his knife to point in my direction as if to make his point, he adds, “Exhibit A.” He shines those ocean blue eyes at me just before his dimples rejoin the party.
A couple of butterflies flap in my belly, and I nearly roll my eyes at my darn self for how weak I am. Don’t be a boy band groupie, Sydney. It’s clear I haven’t had the attention of an attractive man in a very long time.
“Tell me about yourself. Your bio online said that you were a doctor,” he says between bites.
Swallowing down the lump in my throat, I coax myself to relax and enjoy my meal, regardless of how this plays out. Conversation regarding my career is often where things with men change. The intimidation factor , Genevieve calls it.
“I’m a surgeon. I went into medical school fully planning to become an Ob/Gyn. I wanted to help couples bring new life into the world. But I did a medical mission abroad one summer with Operation Smile and fell in love with surgery. The ability to transform someone’s life. What an incredible gift it is.”
Sam appears stunned. His cutlery clinks against his plate as he abruptly puts it down, beaming across the table at me. “Wow. You’re fucking incredible.”
My eyes shoot open in disbelief at his declaration. I grab my water to clear my throat, fearing, in my shock, the piece of asparagus I was eating may have gotten lodged there.
“And so humble. You barely mention your career and you’re doing something so noble every single day. And here I’ve been blathering on about slinging wine.” He shakes his head. “That’s fucking hot.”
My cheeks blush at the compliment. “I’m quite certain your job requires much more than that. And from what you’ve told me, it sounds like you’ve been given a Herculean task. Trying to turn things around.”
“I appreciate you saying that.” He takes a sip of his drink. “But the amount of work and training you’ve put in to get to where you are.” He shakes his head like he’s truly in awe. “It’s really impressive.” Sam startles me by placing his hand over mine. “I can only imagine how your patients must feel, having you in their corner in their time of need.”
Is this guy still in PR mode? I’d like to think he’s genuine, but honestly, Sam is a complete mystery to me. I honestly don’t know what to make of him.
“Thank you.” I grin over at him. “That’s kind of you to say.”
However, instead of returning my smile, I witness a deep V develop between Sam’s brows before his skin turns ashen. It’s the polar opposite of the way he’d been looking over my shoulder earlier. Is he having some sort of medical event? He doesn’t appear to be choking.
An unease begins to churn in my belly. Yet before I can ask what is happening, a thunderous sound reverberates behind me.
“Get your fucking hand off my wife!”