Katie
Michael’s hand grips mine firmly as we walk toward Main Street. He still hasn’t said a word about where he’s taking me, which is mildly concerning. I mean, we’re downtown, so statistically it’s probably a restaurant and not a murder basement. But still.
Neither of us says anything as we walk, which gives me entirely too much time to think about the fact that a thirty-six-year-old, absolutely gorgeous, slightly stalkerish man is currently holding my hand.
“So,” I draw out. “You gonna tell me where we’re going?”
He looks down at me. I’m not super short. I’m five-six, but he’s so goddamn tall.
“I’m going to keep you guessing,” he says with a smirk. “I think it’ll be more entertaining.”
“Has anyone ever called you a jackass?” I say with my full chest.
“Yeah,” he says easily and gives a little wink. “But none as cute as you.”
“I’m sure.” I roll my eyes. There is no universe where “jackass” is the worst thing a woman has called this man. He’s a walking red flag.
We stop at a crosswalk, and he lets go of my hand and wraps an arm around my waist. His hand settles on my hip.
“Excuse you,” I say, stepping away. “Bold move considering I just called you a jackass.”
He tilts his head, and instead of saying anything, he slides his hands into his pockets, turns, and walks across the street.
“Seriously?” I call after him.
He doesn’t even turn around, and because I’m apparently a masochist, I jog to catch up with him.
“Oh, joining me?” he asks when I catch up.
He looks down at me with the most shit-eating grin on his face. It’s hot, and I hate that I’m falling for it.
Instead of answering, I grab his hand. “Let’s just go wherever you’re taking me.”
“You want to hold my hand now?”
I sigh loudly. I’m going to punch him.
“We were already holding hands,” I say. “You’re the one who escalated.”
“Doll,” he says. “I can’t help that you’re so touchable.”
Damn. That’s sexy.
I still rip my hand away. He laughs and keeps walking. Naturally, I follow him again, because I’ve already accepted my fate.
“We’re here,” he says, stopping.
I look up.
“Oh,” I say, surprised. “I love this place.”
We’re standing in front of The Lantern Cafe. It’s my favorite restaurant in Auburn Heights.
“I know.”
“How would you know that?”
“You tagged it four times last month.”
I blink.
“You stalked my Instagram.”
He smiles, opening the door for me to go in.
“Fucking psycho,” I breathe, but I still go inside.
He follows right behind me. I’m still thinking about punching him when I look up.
Oh God. No.
Working the host stand is one of my students.
“Ms. Miller!” Arianna says. She sees Michael behind me, and her eyes go wide. “Oh.”
“Hi, Arianna,” I give her a small wave as if I’m not deeply humiliated. “How are you?”
“I’m good.” Her eyes flick to Michael again. “I saw I got an A on the final paper.”
“It was wonderfully written.”
Why is this happening to me?
She nods quickly. “Do you have reservations?”
Michael steps forward. He completely blocks the light over the host stand.
“It’s under Amato.”
I look up at him. Amato. As in Amato Towers? Amato Plaza?
What the hell?
Arianna glances down at her tablet.
“Here it is. It’ll just be a moment.”
“Thanks, Arianna.”
The second she walks away, I whirl around and jab Michael in the chest.
“What the fuck, dude? Your last name is Amato?”
“Last I checked.”
“You realize your last name is on a million buildings in L.A.?”
“I’m aware.”
I throw my hands up. “Is that all you’re going to say?”
He looks down at me clearly entertained.
“What do you want me to say, Doll?”
“I don’t know. Maybe something like, hey Katie, heads-up, I’m a billionaire and own half the city. You know. Small talk.”
He studies my face for a second.
“You seemed more concerned about my mustache.”
My face heats. He steps closer, but my body doesn’t step back, which feels like a personal betrayal. A throat clears. I turn, and Arianna is standing there with her mouth open.
Oh my God.
“Right this way,” she says.
Great. By Monday, the entire student body will know Ms. Miller went to The Lantern Cafe with a six-foot-five man who is objectively too hot to be standing next to a public school teacher.
Arianna leads us to our table, and as we weave through the restaurant, Michael’s hand falls to the center of my back.
I tense automatically, but I feel the warmth of his palm, and my body betrays me by relaxing into it.
She stops at a table near the back patio.
The French doors are open wide tonight, and a small band is already playing.
“Is this okay?” she asks.
“It’s perfect,” Michael says. “Thank you.”
She glances nervously between us. “I’ll see you Monday, Ms. Miller.”
“Bye, Arianna. Have a good weekend.”
She practically sprints away, probably to text the entire student body. I’m about to pull out my chair when Michael steps in front of me.
“If you wanted this side, you could’ve said so.”
He smirks, pulls the chair out, and waits.
Oh.
I sit down, and he pushes the chair in for me before taking the seat across from me. When I look up, he’s already watching me, grinning. Suddenly I’m very nervous.
Michael leans back in his chair.
“That was cute,” he says.
I wrinkle my nose at him. “What are you talking about?”
“You and your student.” He gestures lazily toward the front of the restaurant where Arianna disappeared.
My stomach sinks.
“Oh my God,” I mutter, rubbing my forehead. “I want you to know I’m walking into an absolute shit show on Monday.”
Michael’s mouth twitches.
“She’s going to tell everyone,” I continue. “Not only her friends. Everyone. By second period the entire school will know Ms. Miller showed up to The Lantern Cafe with a tattooed, wildly attractive, six-foot-five man.”
He lifts a brow.
“And she’s going to tell them,” I add darkly, pointing at him, “that Ms. Miller has a boyfriend.”
His expression shifts slightly.
“Is that a bad thing?” he asks.
I lean back in my chair and give him a flat look.
“Too soon, dude.”
Michael studies me, clearly amused. His fingers tap lazily against the table while his eyes drag over my face. I exhale and reach for my water.
“So,” I say. “Do you regularly stalk the women you date?”
He laughs.
“It was light research.”
I lean back in my chair and nod. “Right. Totally normal behavior.”
“Katie,” he says, tilting his head. “Are you nervous?”
“Why would I be nervous?” I say. “It’s not like I just discovered I’m on a date with a man twelve years older than me who has more money than everyone in this town combined.”
He leans forward across the table.
“Would it make you more nervous to know I’m the CEO of Amato Operations?”
“Oh great,” I say. “So you don’t only have the name. You run the whole thing.”
He licks his lower lip and bites it.
“Could you not do that?”
“What now?” he says with a chuckle.
“That.” I wave my hand vaguely at his face.
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He leans back in his chair.
“That thing you just did. With your lips.”
“What thing?”
“The licking. And the biting.”
He tilts his head.
“Why would I stop doing something you clearly enjoyed?”
I’m not going to survive dinner.