CHAPTER 19 BENNETT
BENNETT
The moment I heard she was on a date with Cougar, my entire day was flipped upside down. I honestly had no intention of going to the stadium because our manager does ask us to take rest days, but I had to blow off some steam.
I was irritated.
Frustrated.
And fucking annoyed.
Because I couldn’t believe she was on another date with him, let alone him calling her fucking sweetheart.
Sweetheart.
What the actual fuck?
That word, hearing it directed from another man to my girl, lit something inside of me.
I was ignited and ready to fucking blow.
I refuse to let her grow attached to someone else right in front of my fucking eyes. Not happening, which means I’m not holding back anymore.
And it starts tonight.
“This is incredible,” Bower says as we make our way out to the private rooftop where the dinner is being held.
Brick walls line the perimeter mixed with potted plants and string lights.
There’s a long dinner table in the middle, decked out with candles, moss centerpieces that run the length of the table, and earth-toned dishware.
The wooden chairs that line the table are all eclectic in their own way, while olive-green velvet table linens soften the setting.
It’s the perfect atmosphere for me to make my move.
Not to mention we’re supposed to act like a couple, so I’m going to take advantage—as much as she will allow.
“Bower,” an older woman in a silk skirt and sweater says, walking up to us.
Her skin appears soft, but with laugh lines in the corner of her eyes and mouth.
Her hair is solid white and tied back into a low bun, while her lips are dusted in a rosy pink.
She gives off elegance but with a hint of kindness in her eyes. “Thank you for coming.”
“Of course.” Bower, in her mouthwatering shirt, turns toward me and says, “Bennett, this is my boss, Adalade. Adalade, this is Bennett.”
Adalade slowly looks me over, a smile pulling on her lips. “Bennett, it’s so nice to meet you. Bower has said such wonderful things about you.”
“I can definitely say the same,” I say, taking Adalade’s hand and giving it a gentle shake. “Thank you for moving to San Francisco. You really did me a solid by bringing Bower closer to me.”
Adalade chuckles, her hand to her chest. “My, what a charmer.”
“Only speaking the truth,” I say as I wrap my arm around Bower.
“Well, then maybe Bower needs to consider that you could be more than friends.”
Now that’s what I’m fucking talking about.
“Oh stop it,” Bower says, her cheeks actually red. “We’re here to play matchmaker, not the other way around. So tell us where Draco is.”
Adalade sighs. “Sadly, he had to cancel.”
“Oh.” Bower looks up at me, as if questioning why we’re here. “I’m sorry to hear that. Do you want us to go?”
Adalade shakes her head. “Absolutely not. You both dressed up. You look stunning, and I want you to have a good night.”
“But are you going to be okay?”
“Of course. It’s a beautiful night and I’m surrounded by people fascinated to hear my story. It’s a dream. But you must know, I told our host, Anita, that you two are a couple.” She winks. “Don’t let me down.”
“We won’t,” I say and then take Bower by the hand and lead her over to the quaint bar by a large lounge.
“I’m sorry,” she whispers after I order two glasses of wine for us.
“Sorry for what?” I turn toward her, my breath catching in my chest from just how goddamn perfect she is.
Makeup, no makeup. Sweatpants or dress. She’s stunning at every angle. And tonight, under the string lights, she’s just so perfect.
“For making you come tonight when the guy didn’t even show up.”
“You act as if this is a hardship for me.”
“It’s your night off. I’m sure the last thing you want to be doing is wearing a suit and standing on a roof with a bunch of people you don’t know.”
“The way I see it is I get to hang out with you, drink some fancy-as-shit wine, and eat probably one of the best meals we’re ever going to have. Also, I probably would have been hanging out with you anyway, so we’re just in a different setting.”
She glances back at the dressed-up table. “It does look like it’s going to be a fancy dinner.” Then she looks at the bar. “And the wine does seem fancy.” And then her eyes set on mine. “And I could have seen us reading together tonight.”
“Exactly, which means…you shouldn’t be apologizing.” The bartender sets down two glasses of wine and I give him a twenty before handing Bower a glass. I clink mine with hers. “To an evening full of the unknown.”
She smirks. “To the unknown.”
“Thank you so much.”
“Of course,” I say, with a smile.
“Sorry to bother.” The woman, who came over looking for a picture, walks right up to Adalade and gushes.
“I think that’s about everyone.” Bower glances around the rooftop, taking in the small crowd. “I don’t think one person missed out on taking a picture with you.”
“Once one person figured it out, they all fell in line after that.”
“I would have thought people who hang out with Adalade wouldn’t have wanted a picture with you. No offense, but they just don’t seem like the sporty type.”
“It’s not my baseball talent that brought them in.”
“Oh yeah?” she scoffs. “What is it, then?”
“My stunningly good looks.”
Bower rolls her eyes. “Full of yourself much?”
“I thought you liked hanging around douchebags,” I counter, surprising her.
“Oh, you’re going there, huh?”
I finish off my wine just as a waiter brings us both our fourth glass of the night.
We went through our second when a man named Ira was telling us all about investing in bonds.
And our third was consumed while speaking with a woman about her late husband, Ronald, who she’s grateful died before her, because now she gets to live her life, attending rooftop dinner parties.
Got to love a bitter widow.
“Just unsure what you see in him.”
“You set me up with him.”
“Mistakes were made. I can admit it.”
She smiles over the rim of her wineglass. “Big of you.” She shifts a little closer, close enough that I can rest my hand on her hip, and I do just that as I stare down at her. “And if you think I can do better, what does that entail?”
“First of all, not a guy named Cougar. His name alone doesn’t pass the orgasm test.”
Her mouth falls open before saying, “Oh my God, I forgot I told you about the orgasm test.”
I slowly nod. “Yeah, you did. And there’s no way you can moan his name and it will sound appealing. Cougar is not the kind of name that rolls off the tongue in a sexy way.”
“Not so much. Okay, what else?”
Taking the bait, I say, “You need someone who can take care of you, not because you need it, but because you deserve it.” Her expression softens.
“You need someone who’s infatuated and not asking you out to morning dates because that’s what’s easiest for them.
You need someone who’ll put in the effort, like the things you like, and be there for you when you need it the most and the least.”
“To name a few things.” She shakes her head. “Men like that don’t exist.” I’m about to tell her the fuck they don’t when her eyes snap to mine and she says, “What about you? What’s on your list of the perfect match for you?”
“Why would I tell you that?”
“Uh, so I could help you find someone.”
“I don’t need help. I already know what I want.”
She rolls her eyes. “Are you talking about your crush? Because it’s never going to happen unless you make a move.”
“Well aware.”
“So, are you going to make a move?”
“I am.” I nod, causing her eyes to widen in surprise.
“Oh my God, really? When? Who is she? Can I be there when you do it?”
“Bower, Bennett, dinner is about to be served,” Adalade says with a knowing smile, the kind of smile she only shares with me.
Bower turns to me and says, “This isn’t over.”
I finish off my wine, and she does the same before I take her hand and lead her to the table. We’re sitting on the end, so I pull out her chair for her and help her down before taking the seat right next to her. I then capitalize on the moment and drape my arm over her chair, tugging her in closer.
Our host, Anita, introduces the chef she hired for the night, and he spouts off the theme of the dinner, his inspiration for each platter, and where he found the ingredients so they’re as fresh as they can be.
Once he’s done, our glasses are refilled and I’m feeling buzzed as I lean into Bower and whisper, “Never had steak tartare. Have you?”
“I don’t even know what that is.”
I chuckle. “Looks like we’re about to find out.”
Waiters place a petite-sized plate in front of us with what looks like one bite of red meat and a quail’s egg over easy resting on top.
“That is the smallest piece of meat I’ve ever seen,” Bower whispers, making my chest rumble with laughter.
“Thank fuck you’re saying that about the food on your plate and not the dick in my pants.”
Her eyes widen even more before she snorts, covering her nose and attempting not to draw attention to us as the rest of the dinner party all engage in mature conversation. Something about an art gallery they went to.
“Grateful I didn’t take a bite when you said that, or else tartare would have flown out of my nostrils.”
“Shame, would have loved to see that.” I stab the meat with my fork and wolf it down in one bite.
The texture is off for me, but the flavors are decent. When I swallow, I press my lips to her ear and say, “That was fucking slimy.”
“If you don’t like slimy things, how are you going to impress your crush?” she asks, tucking into the tartare herself.
I’ve turned toward her, completely blocking off the rest of the group, which doesn’t seem to bother anyone as we separate from the pack and form our own dinner party of two.
“What the hell does that mean?”
“It means…”—she sips her wine and then wiggles her brows—“going down…”
“Why the hell would you call that slimy?”
“Well, if the juices are really flowing, it could be a mess.”
“The best kind of mess,” I say. “And the juices would be flowing, so much that she’s practically fucking my face as I go down.”