Chapter Thirteen
Daniel
S he was here. Wren. Birdie. My eagle.
As we strode toward the restaurant, I could feel the nerves, the skittishness, rolling off Wren. She was scared, and I didn’t care for how that looked on her. Actually, I wouldn’t call it scared, but more timid…which was unlike her.
“I’m so glad you’re here,” I whispered, bringing my hand around her back, my palm settling above her ass.
“Danny-boy, good to see you,” the partial owner and manager, Jack, greeted me. He held out a hand and I shook it with my free one.
It was the middle of the afternoon, but I’d been coming to this tiny Italian place before it became a mecca for star sightings. I’d called to let Jack know we were coming, and he was happy to oblige.
“Wren, meet Jack. He’s been taking care of me as long as I can remember…”
“Yes, since he was a wee lad and entertaining sponsors.”
I eyed up Jack. “I was never wee, and you’re from Wisconsin…”
“Nice to meet you, Jack, and feel free to make fun of Daniel any time for my benefit.”
“What the lady wants…the lady gets,” Jack joked. “Come, this way.” He walked us toward the back to a small alcove table set for two.
Wren slid in first, and the best part was I got to sit right next to her. Jack handed us menus, detailing a divine roasted eggplant on focaccia that they were featuring, before slipping away.
“So, this is your joint?” Wren looked at me, her beautiful face on display.
“One of them. Jack and I met in the clubhouse many moons ago. He was there as a guest and we hit it off. I’ve been coming in ever since. He does a great job of managing the celebrities and their privacy while servicing everyday people like me.”
“I’d hardly say you’re an everyday person.”
“Tomato, tomahto.” I ran my palm down her thigh and she graced me with a smile. “Is that okay? I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.”
“It’s fine…as long as you don’t call me Doc.”
“Scout’s honor,” I said, tossing my hand up in the air.
We were interrupted. “Hi, I’m Ashley, and I’ll be serving you today.” She set a glass of white wine in front of us both. “These are from Jack.”
“Tell him thanks,” I said, looking at Ashley. I hated to admit how lonely it felt losing eye contact with Wren for only a few seconds.
“Do you need a few minutes?” Ashley inquired, further dominating my attention.
“We haven’t looked, but will you send over the focaccia?”
“Will do.”
Finally, Ashley was gone, and I silently wished for her not to return. With my focus back on Wren, I said, “Cheers,” while holding up my glass.
I took a sip, not realizing how much the slight alcohol would burn and steady my nerves. I took another and closed my eyes, thinking I couldn’t mess this moment up—
“I don’t think I’ve had a midday lunch out…ever,” Wren said, setting her glass down.
“Well, it is dinnertime where you are from, so it’s actually a dinner date. One with me.” I’d never been the beat-on-my-chest kind of guy, but I was rapidly turning into one.
“Are you wooing me?” Wren looked at me with an eyebrow raised.
She was so sexy; I wanted to plant a kiss right there, above her eye. Instead, I squeezed her thigh. “You got me. Now, back to your language of love. Are you willing to let me in on the secret so I can woo faster? I only have four days.” I wanted to make this woman happy in a way I didn’t understand. I’d gone from college-aged crush to full-on midlife aching in a moment’s time, and there was no rhyme or reason. Other than Wren lit a spark in me that I’d never been able to explain.
“You know what? I don’t really know… Sad but true. I love Rourke because he’s my family, and as you know I always wanted to take care of animals. My work does make me happy. I’m successful and well-regarded among my colleagues, and I definitely don’t miss my parents’ nagging. But—and this is a big but—I don’t really know what makes my heart race. But—and this is a big but—I’m enjoying this. Sitting down, not rushing, having a glass of wine, and simply being.” She smiled, her whole face lighting up, and I told myself that look was all for me and had nothing to do with being relaxed or unwinding.
I couldn’t help myself. I leaned in and ran my lips over her ear. “Here’s to simply being,” I whispered just for her.
She looked at me and I watched her chest rise and fall with her inhale and exhale. “I like that. I’m so glad I came,” she admitted aloud.
In that moment a flush of heat flooded my chest, and in an effort to cool and calm myself, I took another gulp of wine.
Sadly, my mojo was quickly doused when Ashley returned with the focaccia and took our orders. Wren looked at the menu and decided on a chopped salad. I went with the mixed grill plate.
“Another round?” Ashley looked at us.
“Why not?” Wren said and our server was happily walking away from us.
We got right back to talking, Wren asking about the club where I worked, and if she could see it.
“I mean, it’s the Riviera. Doesn’t every famous person belong? You never know who I’m going to see… So of course I want to go.” She was teasing, but it still grew my ego times thirty.
She wasn’t wrong on who she might see, but that wasn’t the thing getting me worked up. I wasn’t exactly sure why, but her wanting to see the Riviera made me feel on top of my game—pardon the pun—considering my ex took an interest in golf only where it applied to my own stardom and wealth. “Of course we can go. We can have dinner or lunch, or play a few holes?”
“Guess what? The last time I picked up a club was when we played at that fake golf place in college.”
“No, really?”
She nodded. “Plenty of colleagues ask me to play. But learning, actually doing it…I never did. Maybe it reminded me of you?”
If she kept tossing out these compliments, we would be leaving before the meal… I wanted, needed to ravage this woman. Berating myself, I told my mind and body to calm down.
Except she didn’t stop. Without knowing it, this woman stroked my soul in ways I didn’t know it needed throughout the appetizer, main course, and tiramisu (again thanks to Jack).