Chapter 3 The Date #2
“You wouldn’t.” Jordan leaned forward and all humor disappeared from her face. “So…do you want to tell me why I’m really here?”
Nervousness twitched on his face. “What do you mean?”
“I mean this whole dinner. I know it’s a sham but I don’t know what your hidden agenda is.”
“I don’t have a hidden agenda.”
She rolled her eyes. “Oh, please. Spare me the bullshit. I’ve been working for you for two years and now all of a sudden, completely out of the blue, you think it’s fitting to take me out for dinner to say thank-you.
No way! There is another reason why I’m here tonight.
So what is it? Did one of your friends dare you?
Is this one of those bets?” She nodded to herself.
“It is, isn’t it? I’ve seen it a million times on those badly written romantic comedies.
You’re the rich guy, I’m the nerdy girl.
It all makes perfect sense now. But we’re not fucking teenagers! What a stupid bet, Tyler!”
Profanities were not part of Tyler’s vocabulary and she generally tried not to drop F-bombs in his presence. But that one just slipped out and she didn’t know if it was the colorful word or the attack as a whole that caused the look of total, utter shock on his face.
He stared at her for a long time, unable to respond. After some thought, he leaned forward. “Jordan, do you realize you had that entire conversation by yourself? I assure you, there is no bet. This is just a simple dinner.”
Although still skeptical, she decided to drop the subject. He seemed edgy, constantly looking around the restaurant, but eventually his attention returned to her.
“So,” he began, subtly trying to change the topic, “your friend seems…interesting.”
“Oh, Gemma. She’s a little over the top, isn’t she? But yeah, she’s very interesting. It’s actually her place I’m staying at. She travels a lot so I kinda hold down the fort while she’s gone.”
“So it’s just you…and the cat?”
“And my dog, Roscoe. He is a Great Dane and the world’s smartest dog. He gets the paper every morning, brings my slippers, does—” She stopped when she noticed his eyes were now firmly pinned on her. “Why are you looking at me like that?”
“Your dog’s name is Roscoe? Like my dad?”
Her eyes widened. “Purely coincidental.”
“Not buying it.”
“It’s a very popular name for dogs.”
“Try again.”
“Yeah, I named him after your dad…but it really is a good thing. You should actually take it as a compliment.”
He nodded and smiled. “I’ll take your word for it, Jordan.”
Tyler noticed the waiter coming towards them carrying their food on a tray and cringed internally.
This date was already halfway through and Trisha was nowhere to be found.
This was her favorite restaurant and she came here every Thursday, so why wasn’t she here already?
He didn’t have a back-up plan if this didn’t go the way he’d planned.
He wouldn’t be able to ask Jordan out again.
She was already suspicious. If Trisha didn’t show up soon, this would have all been for nothing and—
His thoughts came to an abrupt halt when he saw the waiter trip over his own feet.
The next few seconds played out in slow motion.
The tray lifted off his hand. Cutlery scattered all over, clanging as it hit the floor.
The plates flew up in the air. The waiter desperately tried to catch what he could, but the plate holding Jordan’s butternut and spinach ravioli turned mid-air and the pasta landed with a heavy splat on her head, glass shattering over the cobble-stone.
She gasped as the creamy sauce slowly oozed over her hair and down her face.
“Oh, my God, Ma’am! I’m so sorry…so so sorry!” The waiter was frantic. He grabbed a few napkins from the table, trying to scoop up large chunks at a time, but all that did was smear the sauce over more of her face and hair. Tyler could do nothing but watch on in horror.
“It’s only my second week on the job,” he explained as he moved the napkins over her head and tossed the pasta onto the tray. “These floors are really slippery and I haven’t broken in these shoes.”
“It’s okay,” Jordan said in a breathless whisper, trying hard to contain her shock.
Tyler could not read the look on her face and thus could not decide if she was angry or embarrassed.
Maybe she was a bit of both. He took pity on the poor waiter.
He was just trying to do his job and accidents happen.
The manager of the restaurant was storming towards the table, his cheeks burning crimson with fury.
Oh, no. He’s going to get it now. As soon as his boss gets here, Jordan is going to flip and this poor guy is going to lose his job.
His mind began to race with a multitude of possibilities of how he could diffuse the situation.
“What’s going on here?” the manager shouted.
The waiter’s mouth moved but there was no sound, like he was on mute, but then words slowly began to form. “I…I was walking and then…and…then…”
“It was my fault,” Jordan cut in. “I was getting up to go the bathroom and crashed right into him. I didn’t see him. Sorry about the mess.”
It was obvious the manager didn’t believe her because he fixed livid eyes on the waiter. “You should be more careful next time!” He turned back to Jordan. “Apologies, Miss. Your meal tonight will be complimentary.”
“The one on my head?” Jordan asked with a slight chuckle in her voice.
“Get another ravioli for the lady,” he ordered.
The waiter seemed to mouth a thank you to Jordan before he dashed off.
The manager soon followed. Tyler noticed that everyone in the restaurant had turned to stare at her, but Jordan was completely unperturbed by the whispers and faint giggles.
Her reaction was so unnatural. She’d even lied so he wouldn’t get into trouble.
Tyler assumed she would freak out, throw a tantrum, make a scene.
That definitely would have been Trisha’s reaction to a situation like this, but Jordan just sat there, reading the wine menu as if she didn’t have butternut smeared across her cheek.
No, the woman in front of him wasn’t at all like Trisha. She wasn’t like any woman he’d ever met. He’d heard the term easy-going before but Jordan gave that term an entirely new meaning.
“Ooh, we should get the Barolo,” she said, lifting her head from the menu.
“Jordan, if you want to go home, we can—”
“Don’t be silly, Tyler. There’s no reason to have our evening ruined over spilled pasta.”
“Don’t you feel weird…with everyone…staring…and—”
“I have four brothers. Trust me, after a teenage girl grows up with four boys, she stops caring about what other people think…but…if you feel embarrassed…”
“No,” Tyler said quickly and oddly enough, he meant it.
He had never met anyone who simply didn’t care what other people thought.
It was liberating just being in her company.
He watched her from across the table as the pasta sauce dried in her hair and somehow she was more appealing now than she was in her little navy cocktail dress.
“We’ll have the Barolo,” he conceded with a nod.
“I’m feeling a little sticky, so I’m gonna try to clean myself up a bit.” She put the menu down but before she got up, she looked over at him and smiled. “You still technically owe me dinner though, because this one’s on me.”
The thought lightened his mood further. He now had a plan-B if Trisha didn’t see them together. He smiled back. “Yes, literally…on you.”
Her eyebrows furrowed together in the cutest way. “Did you just make a joke, Tyler Evans?”
“I believe I did. As we have already established, I’m…off the chain tonight.”
The hilarity of the entire situation culminated into that moment. She laughed and then he did too, so she laughed louder and before he knew it, they were snickering like two drunken teenagers.