13. SARAH
My eyes dance over the mirror one last time, my hands smoothing out my black dress over my thighs as I twist, ensuring I’m still clear of a noticeable baby bump.
My arms drop to my sides as I gaze upon myself.
What am I doing?
Why did I agree to go on this date?
Because you really fucking like Paul.
But we can’t be together. At least not right now.
Because if Greyson finds out…
Pinching the bridge of my nose, I shake my head.
This was a mistake.
Agreeing to this date was a fucking mistake.
Picking up my phone to text Paul and cancel, I stop when a knock sounds at my door.
It’s too late.
Sighing, I grab my purse and jacket and reach the front door, wrapping my hand around the handle.
Everything will be fine.
It’s just one date.
After tonight, you will go back to pretending you don’t like him.
You have to.
You have no choice.
Throwing on a smile, I open the door to find…
Holy hell.
My mouth hangs wide open at the sight before me.
Paul is leaning against the doorframe, his burly arms crossed over his chest, covered in a white button-down tucked into a pair of black slacks accentuating his muscular thighs. When my eyes make their way back up to his, I find him observing me with amusement.
“I’d ask how I look, but I think I already know the answer.” His eyebrows raise as he smirks knowingly.
My cheeks heat up at being caught gawking at him like a teenage girl.
“Pshh.” I toss my hair over my shoulder, shoving my way around him. “Get over yourself. I had something in my eye.”
He grabs my forearm, spinning me into his chest. My breaths quicken from our proximity, his familiar masculine smell engulfing me, sending my hormones straight to the center of my core, pulsing madly.
His lips brush across mine gently, barely touching me. “You look unbelievably beautiful.” His hand runs down my hair before pausing and stepping away. Clearing his throat, he says, “I promised you a real date, which means no kissing until the end.” I sulk with a slight pout, making him laugh. Every part of my body is left tingling in frustration. “Come on.” He reaches his hand out for me. “We’ve got places to be, baby girl.”
* * *
“Where are we?”
I’m awestruck as I take in the small but quaint restaurant resembling a greenhouse. There’s an assortment of flowers in almost every color in the room. Vines hang from a pure glass ceiling, allowing patrons the privilege of seeing the picturesque night sky above while they eat.
“It’s called Il Fiore. They opened a few weeks ago. I was walking by one day, and when I saw it, well, I hoped you might like it, seeing that you love flowers.” His eyes glance appreciatively at my floral tattoos, and his hand reaches out, tracing the images.
The feeling is intimate, creating an instant throb in my core.
I clear my throat, clenching my thighs together. “You would be right. This place looks like the perfect backdrop to a fairy tale.” Even the tables we sit at have an acrylic top, displaying crushed flowers underneath.
“You look…” He stops before saying, “You look happy.”
I roll my lips together, thinking. “I guess that’s because I feel it.” Picking at the piece of bread before me, I say, “Thank you for tonight.”
“We haven’t even had dinner yet, and you’re thanking me?” he muses, laughing. “Maybe if the night goes well, you’ll let me take you on a second date.”
Dread fills me, knowing we can’t.
We only have tonight.
I twist the napkin on my lap, guilt bubbling inside me.
How can I do this to him?
How can I sit here and pretend everything is okay when it’s far from it?
How can I not just blurt out that I’m pregnant with his baby?
Looking down at the table, I squeeze the napkin in my hand. “Paul, there’s something—”
“You’re done with him. And if I find out that you two have anything to do with each other, your little five minutes of fame will be released for the entire world to see… Oh, and with a simple hack, I’ll make it appear like Paul released it in a jealous rage. Ruining any chance of a career in the NBA. Heck, it’ll probably even ruin his life. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for doing that to him, right?”
I drop the napkin, placing my hands on the table before me.
“What is it?” His fingers lightly grip my chin, angling my face toward him.
I hold his eyes, praying he won’t see what lies beneath my beating heart. The truth. “It just feels like a night I’ll never forget.”
His hand drops to the table, intertwining our fingers. “Me too.”
His eyes sparkle with things I can’t give him, like hope. Hope for the two of us. A ripple of sadness surrounds me, knowing I can’t give him what he wants. I can’t give myself to him because I won’t risk Greyson destroying his career.
A young waiter approaches, clearing his throat. “Good evening, and welcome to Il Fiore. May I start you off with a drink or appetizer?”
I hesitate before saying, “Water for me, please.”
Paul squeezes my hand. “We’ll also have a bottle of your finest red tonight. And an order of the bruschetta, crab cakes, stuffed mushrooms, the lobster mac and cheese bites, and…” He looks at me. “Am I missing anything?”
I shake my head with wide eyes.
“We’ll start with that then. Thank you.”
Start?
The waiter lowers his chin before walking away.
“Paul, I…umm…” There’s no way I can afford to split this bill with him. I don’t even want to know what a bottle of the “finest red” costs. Pulling my hand away, I whisper so no one nearby can hear, “I can’t afford this.”
My cheeks heat from embarrassment.
Paul frowns, reaching for my hand again, which I let him take.
“And why would that matter?”
“Well, because when the bill comes, I don’t think—”
“This is a date, Sarah. A date that I asked you on. That means I take care of the bill. Besides, to be completely honest with you, I’m fucking starving, and those items were the only things under the appetizer section that I recognized. It was a safe bet.” He laughs, and I feel my shoulders relax from his words.
“Okay.” I nod, biting my bottom lip, suddenly feeling self-conscious, knowing Paul has money and I don’t.
The waiter brings a bottle of wine, pours each of us a glass, and then leaves the bottle on the table for us. Paul lifts his glass toward me.
Shit.
I lift my glass, mirroring him.
“To a first date with the most beautiful woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.”
I look down for only a moment, blushing. “And to the guy who twisted my arm to do this. Thank you.”
He smiles as our glasses clink. Bringing my glass to my lips, I pretend to take a sip before quickly putting it back on the table.
“So, have you created any new art pieces recently?” He places his glass on the table, leaning forward.
I break off another piece of bread. “I’m trying to. My art professor mentioned that there’s a show in the city during winter break, and she felt I should exhibit some pieces, so I’ve been working on it by painting in the studio on campus. I’m not sure my pieces will be good enough for it or if anyone will even like them, but I—”
“Will you let me see them?”
“I…umm…” Tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear, I ask, “You want to?”
“Of course. After seeing the quick sketch you drew, I can only imagine how beautiful one of your paintings would be.”
A small smile pulls at my lips. “Okay.”
His hand reaches for mine, his thumb running across the back, sending a shiver over my entire body.
The rest of the dinner goes by quickly with good food and even better conversation.
It’s like a dream I never want to end.
After Paul signs the bill, he stands, retrieving my coat from the coat check, and takes my hand.
“This was the best date I’ve ever been on. Even if I have nothing to compare it to.” I nudge his shoulder playfully.
“Who said it was over?”
I raise my brows, realizing that he’s not leading us outside toward his car but, instead, down a hallway.
“Where are we going?”
Paul keeps walking ahead, bringing me with him as he pushes open a large door, leading us to a set of stairs.
“After you, baby girl.”
I narrow my eyes at him but continue walking until we get to…
“Is this…an art studio?”
“It is,” he answers, leading us through another door in the corner of the room, which reveals a dark room lit only by twinkling lights outlining the ceiling.
Dropping my hand, he walks toward the corner where two pristine white coveralls hang. He grabs both of them, handing me one to take. “You might want to put this on. I would hate to see that pretty dress get ruined.”
Looking around, I notice giant white canvases standing close together and varieties of bright neon shades of paint all over the room.
“And whose studio is this?”
“A family member’s,” he answers vaguely, already zipping up his jumpsuit.
Removing my heels, I step into the oversized jumpsuit, bunching up my dress to my hips so it doesn’t get caught in the zipper.
“Let me help you.” Paul stands before me, taller beside me without my heels on, and it fucking does something to me.
Goddamn, who knew a man’s height would be my kryptonite?
As I hold my dress to my sides, just barely covering the front of my panties, Paul slowly zips the jumpsuit in place. Once he reaches my hips, I drop the fabric and slide my hands into the sleeves before he continues his sensually slow glide up with the zipper, going even slower over my breasts until eventually getting to the top.
“Knew you’d look sexy in this,” he states, his eyes darkening.
I peek down at myself, extending my arms wide. “I look like a marshmallow.”
He shrugs. “But a sexy marshmallow.”
He hands me a pair of goggles, a thick pair of gloves, and a pair of new white sneakers that I take hesitantly before putting on to complete the outfit.
“You did all of this for me?”
“I knew if I was only getting one date with you, then I had to make it count.” He gives a playful wink, appearing hopeful for tonight.
My heart breaks from his words.
Why would he do all of this for someone like me?
Someone who keeps trying and failing to push him away.
If only he knew how badly I wanted to fall into his arms and tell him everything.
But I can’t.
Displaying a forced smile, I gaze around the room. “Now what?”