Chapter 20 Bill
twenty
Bill
Ruth grips my arm, which isn’t a huge gesture. It’s seriously just her hand resting by the crook of my elbow, but it sends my heart into a tailspin. She’s allowing herself to be seen in public with me. Even though she knows no one in this city, it feels like growth.
I wrestled with the dinner reservations for longer than I care to admit.
I want to take her to all the nicest places, but my heart warns me to start with something simple and somewhere she can relax.
So, I went with a small family-owned bistro.
We don’t need the driver, as it’s on the other side of this street.
Even though it’s colder than dirt outside, the soft glowing front window reminds us the finish line is only a few steps away, and we scurry across the sidewalk, not giving a second glance at the chalkboard menu outside.
“Hawaii is sounding even better.” She lets out a breath as she scans the foyer. Friday-night laughter spirals around us at all the filled tables. “But this is really cute.”
A tall waiter with a dark mustache and a pristine white apron walks up to us and smirks. “Ah! Les amoureux!”
My heart flutters as I witness Ruth’s cheeks fire red, and she holds up a palm. “Oh, we’re not—”
“Maybe not yet,” he switches to English. “You’ve never been to Quebec before.”
The waiter winks, and I chuckle just to break the tension. Ruth gives me the side-eye as her cheeks continue to flush. It’s cute how flustered she gets.
The waiter leads us to a small table, perfect for two, by a window in the back. A center candle flickers as if it’s on its last few minutes. The muted lighting catches copper flecks in Ruth's eyes I’ve never noticed before, and I can’t help but stare as she removes her coat.
I swear that pink coat has ruined me.
Who knew I, Bill Baker, former NHL star and billionaire, could become obsessed with pink. It’s the softest color, making me want to protect her from everything…and maybe I want to snuggle a little too.
“My name is Franco,” the waiter says as he stands with perfect posture by our table. “You don’t need menus tonight,” he scoffs. “I know all the chef’s specials. I understand completely what you need.”
Ruth’s eyes pop wide as her gaze cuts from Franco to me.
I smirk at her and then say, “It sounds like we are in good hands, Franco. Let’s see what you have.”
He nods and leaves. Ruth’s eyes are still as large as saucers when I return my gaze back to her. “If you don’t like it,” I say, “you can order whatever you want, but it sounds like an adventure to let him decide. Plus, I know you aren’t picky.”
“I agree.” She beams back at me. “It’s totally an adventure, and I’m excited to see what he brings. It’s been a long time since I’ve eaten out anywhere that wasn’t my diner.”
“See.” I gesture forward. “You needed to get away from all of that and let yourself experience things.”
Franco returns with a bottle of wine. The label is in French, and one I’ve never seen before. He pours us each a glass and sets the bottle on the table. Ruth looks at me and then the wine glass. “You first. I’m not a big wine person.”
Tilting the glass up slowly, I take a sip and taste something crisp and light, and I nod. “You’ll like it. It’s not too dry.”
She lifts her glass as Franco returns with several plates filled with appetizers: cheeses, sliced bread, figs, and even some prosciutto. Ruth’s eyes pop wide again, and she whispers, “How did he know I prefer snacks?”
Chuckling, I serve her a piece of bread before I give myself one. I wait for her to take the first bite, as she’s never shy about food. The garlic butter on the bread makes her eyelids drift down, and she hums her approval. “This is so good.”
“I agree. The food is amazing, and the environment is perfect,” I say, but I don’t have an appetite.
It’s strange, as I hardly ate anything all day.
Normally I’d be ravenous, especially for food like this, but I’m sort of numb.
All I want to do is watch Ruth experience everything.
It’s like I’m afraid I will miss something if I look away to eat.
Franco returns with more plates filled with bow tie pasta. He sets one topped with green sauce in front of Ruth, and one with a nice red sauce in front of me. “So,” he says as he waves his hand between us. “How long have you two been a couple?”
Ruth manages to laugh lightly, but she doesn’t correct him. She peers at me, like she’s yielding the question, and I say, “Well, officially we aren’t together. It’s our first real date.”
“There’s no way you are not a couple.” Franco's brows bunch together. “Look at her, she’s shining, and you can’t take your eyes off of her.”
I must give it to Franco as he is good at reading people, and I have no words to argue. I offer a shrug. “I’m trying my best to win her over.”
Ruth smiles and shakes her head. Every time I see that smile, I feel like I’ve scored another point. I’m that much closer to winning her heart.
Franco spins on his heel to help a newly sat table. Ruth picks up her wine glass by the stem and holds it near her face, not taking a sip as her eyes narrow. Truth be told, I love the way she looks at me. After a moment, I pick up my glass and say, “What are you thinking about?”
“Just that I’m glad I’m here.”
“I’m glad you’re here too.” I push my glass forward to initiate a toast. “Shall we toast to having a great first date?”
Her laughter is more relaxed than I’ve ever heard it. The sound flutters into my chest, and she doesn’t hesitate to click her glass with mine. “To our perfect first date.”
My breath hitches in my chest, as it does feel perfect. It’s everything I hoped for, and it’s only just beginning.
It’s dark when we step back into the night. My cheeks tingle, but if I’m honest I hardly notice over the tingles that spiral up my arm when Ruth allows me to lead her back to the hotel, hand in hand. It’s like a scene from a movie, the streetlamps casting soft halos guiding us forward.
Quebec is still very much awake, as window shops are lit, a hum of life spills from the bar across the street. “Should we walk around or are you ready to head in for the night?” I ask, after we are a few steps away from the bistro.
Her face lights up with excitement. “I’m not ready to go to bed. Let’s explore.”
Music floats toward us, and I turn my ear while I point forward. “Let’s check it out.”
We pick up the pace toward the rhythmic beats until we find a band playing outside a pub on the block past our hotel.
It’s not so much of a band, as it’s one guy with an acoustic guitar and a gal with a tambourine, but their vocals sound amazing.
A small crowd of people has gathered. Some are clapping, and a few of them are dancing.
Ruth stops mid-step and just stares. “This is magical.”
I open my mouth to reply, but she surprises me and yanks me forward into the middle of the crowd, where the music wraps around me, infecting us both with playful joy.
I apparently have no ability to say no to her, because she pulls me into a dance, spinning me like we’re teenagers.
I’m laughing, and she’s grinning so brightly her smile lights up the whole night, and the city around us fades into a whirl of color.
Her eyes catch mine, sparkling, and her lips twitch, curling into an angle that hints she knows something I don’t. “You’re staring at me,” she whispers in a low voice as she leans forward and tilts her head back, gazing at me.
“That’s all your fault.” I wrap an arm around her lower back and draw her even closer to me. “You’re too beautiful to look away.”
She laughs, rolling her eyes playfully, but there’s a magnetism there that pulls me to take another step closer. Now we’re standing so close, there’s hardly room for a hand to pass between us. “You think you're smooth, don’t you?” she teases, all the while her gaze stays hooked on mine.
I toss up a lazy shrug. “You haven’t run away yet, so maybe it’s working.”
Her lips twitch like she’s fighting a grin for a mere moment, before she gives in, and a full smile fills her face. “Fair enough.”
Taking a risk, I brush a strand of hair behind her ear and watch as she leans into my touch, even lowering her eyelids as if it’s warming her.
The way she savors it undoes me. I told myself I’d take everything slowly, but the cues she’s giving me tell me she’s ready.
I lean in slowly, watching her eyes for hesitation.
She doesn’t flinch as I proceed to brush my lips against hers in a testing kiss.
I hold my breath, half expecting her to turn her head again.
Instead, her mouth curves into the kiss like she’s been waiting for it.
I keep it a tad playful and pull away quickly.
She’s all laughter when she moves back into a dance.
We wrap ourselves together, her hand resting on my chest. It’s like she senses the quickening of my heartbeat.
I take her hand and hold it there as our eyes search each other’s.
Her gaze morphs from tentative to one that’s more fearless as she leans closer to me, until her head is on my chest. I tighten my arms around her and whisper so quietly, I doubt she even hears, “Man, I love this city…”