Chapter 14
CHAPTER
FOURTEEN
Gianna
“This is adorable,” I say, gasping as I step inside Hess.
“Do you like it?” Drake asks, grinning because he already knows the answer. How could he not? This place is fabulous.
The space is bright despite the hour, with beautiful peach walls and fantastic maize-colored chairs.
The drinkware reminds me of my favorite Depression-era glass in all the delicate, pretty colors.
The music is soft but upbeat, and the art on the walls—sketches, sculptures, and tons of whimsical, mixed-media pieces—is nothing short of iconic.
But the copper accents with a slight patina? I’m in heaven.
Off to the right is a piece of art composed of pages of books.
Figures are painted onto the pages with each person or animal interacting with the words.
A rope swing looped around a G with a tiny mouse sitting on the seat.
A woman has a leash tied around the word walk as if she’s taking it on a leisurely stroll and a chef stands at the word cook, using the two Os as skillets. It’s whimsical and so much fun.
“Are you ready?” Drake whispers from behind me, his breath hot against the shell of my ear.
I hum as my core clenches and goose bumps race along my skin. My body sinks toward him, desperate for contact. “If you really want to cook me dinner, keep it up.”
His chuckle rumbles through me, and I feel it everywhere.
Drake nestles his hand in the small of my back as he guides me through the restaurant. His touch is gentle, his fingertips barely pressing the silky fabric of my cami into my skin. It’s a taunt. A tease. Hopefully, it’s a taste of things to come.
“Here you go,” a young man says, placing two drink menus on a table. “Jackie will be right with you. Enjoy.”
Drake thanks him and pulls out my chair. Once I’m seated, he sits across from me.
“This place is amazing,” I say. “How did I not know it was here? It’s so close to my house, too.”
“You would’ve heard about it sooner or later. It’s getting a lot of press.”
I pick up a menu and scan the offerings. There are so many choices that sound delicious. I can imagine being here with my friends, ordering drinks and laughing about our day. Astrid should have Gray bring her here. She’d love it.
“Do you know what would be fun?” I ask, spotting a mocktail section that would be perfect for Audrey.
“Yup.”
His tone—rich and rough—captures my attention. I lift my gaze from the menu in time to catch a roguish grin on his face.
“The backup plan didn’t have to involve cooking,” I say, casually. “You don’t need a kitchen to eat, if you catch my drift.”
“This is our first date.”
“So?”
“So first dates are for getting to know each other.”
I start to suggest how I’d like to get to know him but stop myself. I think the fucker is being genuine. Does he really want to get to know me?
This was not what I was expecting, although I’m not certain what my expectations were, exactly.
I suppose I assumed this science experiment would be face deep—that is, until he was face deep between my legs.
We’d have fun, create stories to yap about on the podcast, and exploit the workplace relationship loophole that we seemed to have found.
I’m not sure what purpose getting to know each other serves in this six-week escapade.
Jackie chooses this moment to appear at the side of our table with a wide smile and bouncy red curls. “Welcome to Hess. I’m Jackie, and I’ll be your server this evening.” She fills two soft blue glasses with iced water. “Is this your first time with us?”
“I’ve been here a number of times,” Drake says smoothly. “But this is my girlfriend’s first visit.”
His declaration startles me, as does the swift wave of warmth that rolls through my insides.
When men have called me their girlfriend or their woman in the past, it’s been icky—like they were trying to control me.
It was a proverbial boot on my throat every time, and I instinctively resisted.
This time, though, it’s less boot on my throat and more air rushing into my lungs.
He doesn’t spit it out like ownership; he speaks it with pride.
Less like he’s chosen me and more like he’s lucky that I chose to spend time with him.
Huh.
“Oh, nice,” Jackie says, placing two new menus on the table. “If you need any recommendations, please let me know. I’m kind of an expert around here.”
“Okay. What are your favorite drinks?” Drake asks.
She smiles as if this question just made her day.
“Well, we have a great prosecco. All our white wines are good, but I love our tempranillo. As far as cocktails, our lychee mule is very popular. You can never go wrong with the mojito or the sangria. But if you go with the sangria, just get the pitcher. Trust me on that.”
“Jackie, I love your passion about the drink menu.” I giggle.
She shrugs happily. “It’s a perk of the job to be able to genuinely recommend things to customers. You can’t go wrong, no matter what you choose. I say that with my whole heart.”
“So what do you think?” I ask Drake. “What sounds good to you?”
“I always get a Mexican lager they carry from a local brewery. Although, I did have the lychee mule once and I’d order that again if I wanted something different.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’m not a beer girl, but I love sangria.”
“Got it,” Jackie says. “Glass or pitcher?”
“He’s driving,” I say, laughing.
Jackie laughs, too. “Great. I’ll work on that while you peruse our menu. Again, let me know if you need recommendations.”
“Thank you,” I say. Once she’s gone, I look at Drake. “She’s so nice.”
“I’ve never had bad service here. You know, the level of service is highly underrated. It’s one of the things that immediately comes to mind when you consider going back to a restaurant.”
“So true. My friends and I have two places in our rotation and a big part of that is because of the staff. For example, one of our favorite servers, Kim, just got a new puppy. How do I know that? Because when we walk through those doors, we feel like family. It’s great.”
“Tell me about your friends. What do they do?”
“Audrey is my doctor friend.”
Drake chuckles. “The philosophy doctor with a specialty in tetanus?”
“That would be the one.” I grin. “Astrid works for Renn Brewer. He owns the Tennessee Royals.”
“No shit.”
My brows pull together, not understanding why that bit of information received that response. “No shit.”
“My buddy, Jory, plays for the Royals.”
“Oh. What a small world. Astrid’s fiancé is Gray Adler.”
Drake nods his head, surprised, I think, but impressed, nonetheless. “Adler is a fucking beast.”
“I’ve heard he’s a fan of a certain sportscaster.”
“You should hook us up.”
I laugh. “Are you breaking up with me already? I’m not opposed to a threesome, you know. But I can’t do it with my best friend’s fiancé.”
“Not a problem. I don’t share.”
My smile is coquettish. “It’s hard to share something you’ve never had.”
His eyes darken, but Jackie arrives with our drinks before he can reply. I would love to hear what he came back at me with, but there’s something fun about leaving the conversation just like that.
It won’t hurt the man to let that marinate for a while.
“Here you go,” Jackie says, setting Drake’s drink in front of him. She pours a glass of sangria for me and leaves the pitcher on the edge of the table. “Have you thought about what you’d like to eat?”
“Everything looks amazing,” I say, wondering how to narrow it down. “How do people decide?”
“My advice is to order a few plates each and see what you like,” Jackie says. “We can kind of go from there.”
Drake looks at me over his menu. “I’m thinking the stuffed dates, potatoes bravas, chicken skewers, stuffed peppers, and definitely the chorizo clams.”
He rattles off his dishes, and then the pressure’s on me. There are so many I want to try, but my eye is drawn to the Hess Sampler—four of the owner’s favorite dishes named after their children: the Max, Mav, Cove, and Casio.
Once Jackie has taken our menus and departed, Drake and I settle in. He picks up his beer, leaning back in his chair with a cool confidence that puts me at ease.
“You were saying something earlier about something being fun,” he says. “We got interrupted before you could tell me what it was.”
I take a sip of my sangria and nearly die. It’s the best damn sangria I’ve ever had.
“I was thinking about how fun it would be if we, as a part of our dating experiment, ran a giveaway of some sort and sent a couple here on a date. Maybe a blind date where we match the couple or something. People could nominate themselves, and we could play matchmaker. Doesn’t that sound like a good time?
And it would give your friend some bonus exposure. ”
Drake snickers. “Look at you. One date with me and you’re wanting to bring people together instead of tearing them apart.”
“Ha. Ha. Ha.” I take another drink. “Speaking of the podcast, how much of this are we sharing with the public?”
“Have you checked your socials today?”
I shake my head.
He takes a deep breath and blows it out slowly. “It’s wild, Gianna. These people are more invested in our lives than we are. It’s hilarious.” He takes a swig of his beer. “I think we’re going to have to give them something, or they’ll riot.”
“Maybe we can record something—a two-to-four-minute thing—that we can post on Social every Monday or something. We can catch them up on whatever happens, so they feel included. And if we don’t have a date or nothing to report, we’ll just make something up.”
“I get six weeks to date you. You better believe I’m going to want all the time you’ll give me.”
I study him as I sip my sangria, feeling the alcohol and the sweetness of the fruit play on my tongue. This date has been so easy—surprisingly easier than most dates I go on. It’s been so easy, in fact, that I forgot it was a date for a while. It just felt like catching up with a super-hot friend.