Chapter Four
Calypso
Stepping out of my vintage red convertible, I fix my black satin midi skirt and contemplate getting back in and driving away.
I’ve had a weird feeling about this date since Lexi originally asked me to take her place.
I still don’t believe that was her only reason.
Trying to figure out her angle is the main reason I’m here.
…and this month’s curated menu.
Resisting the urge to bite my lip, not wanting to ruin my lipstick, I settle for a deep sigh and walk toward the entrance of Max’s. The fact the man is springing for dinner here definitely adds a tiny pep to my step.
Walking up to the host stand, I give the last name Maddon, having learned my date is Lucas and Mia’s cousin. She walks me toward the back of the restaurant to a more secluded dining area. The tables are set for smaller parties with dividers and plants, offering a little more privacy between tables.
I don’t get a look at my date until we’re rounding the corner and the host is pulling my seat out for me.
My date is standing to greet me, but freezes halfway when he meets my gaze.
“Hi,” he breathes out. The ghost of it tickles my neck, reminding me of when he stood flush against my back and kissed my neck in the elevator.
Before he can recover and get up to greet me, I quickly drop down into my seat and offer the host a polite but slightly dismissive smile. She isn’t put off by it and lets us know she’ll grab our server.
“No rush,” he tells her and pours me a glass of water.
“Actually, I’d love a drink,” I tell her before she can walk away. At her surprised expression, I add, “Now. Please. Thanks.”
With more amusement, her eyes drift in his direction and she nods, walking away quickly. I’m sure any person would think I’m crazy to give this tattooed Adonis the cold shoulder.
Turning back to him, I press my lips together and raise my eyebrows. “Is this a joke?”
He leans back, smirking. “I was going to ask you the same thing. Weird that I move to town and suddenly I’m bombarded with a blind date offer.”
“Bombarded,” I scoff. “Please—Lexi had to practically beg me to come out tonight.”
“Lexi… You mean your business partner?” he asks.
I nod and take a sip of water. “And the bane of my existence.” A thought occurs to me and I almost choke on the ice-cold liquid. “How do you know who Lexi is?”
“My nephew asked me to take him so he could request a book.” He bites his bottom lip and tilts his head, looking at me with amusement. “The store was cute—kitschy.”
I’m offended for a half a second until the fog in my mind clears.
The stranger leaned across the bar, reaching for the damn dessert menu again.
He used his right hand, giving me a glimpse of the tattoos that decorate more of his body.
Unlike his bright, intricate floral design made up of four types of flowers, his other sleeve was a patchwork design with a variety of random things.
1989—I assume the year he was born.
A sailboat and a pomegranate and a pair of dice.
There’s even a skeleton rock on hand, which almost pulled a smile from my lips. I wanted to ask more about them—even later that night, when we were both sleepy and satiated—but I was playing hard to get.
Not that I needed to, but it always makes the encounter a little more fun.
“Hm, says here that the dessert menu is curated by one of the owners of a little bookstore-bakery in Amada Beach…” He read the menu. “Brighter Daze.”
Biting back a smirk, I took a sip of my whiskey sour and scrunched my nose. “Sounds kitschy,” I said with a teasing tone. Thankfully, I had insisted the head chef not include a photo of me on the small bio page.
He crinkled his eyebrows, looking at me with amused curiosity that quickly heated up.
When I took a sip and caught the whiskey droplet that was sliding down my cup with my tongue, I could practically feel his burning gaze on me.
And when I licked my bottom lip and held his eye contact, I knew I made the right choice by staying out that night.
Mentally shaking myself out of the memory, I glare at him, but it’s not my most intimidating.
Cheeky bastard.
“Just not interested in garnering a new stalker,” I retort, scrunching my nose.
His brows flick up in amusement. “That makes it sound like you’ve had one before.”
Only an ex-husband who won’t leave me alone.
“Nope.” I shake my head, pushing any thoughts of Stefan far away. “Because I never give any details.”
“Right,” he says slowly, nodding. “Not even your name.”
I twist my lips to the side and contemplate it. He’s going to learn it even if I go the entire dinner without giving him the information. Figuring it doesn’t matter, I tell him, “Calypso.”
It takes him a second to realize what I mean by the one, random word. It’s an extremely uncommon name, so it would be easy for someone to find more about me. Even my middle name, Rainn, is something you don’t hear every day. It’s why I avoid giving information away if it’s just a one-night stand.
And that’s all he was.
He’s looking at me, like he’s fitting the pieces of my name to what little he knows about me so far—mostly my body.
“I like that,” he finally says in a low voice. “Calypso.”
A shiver runs down my back at the timbre I suddenly remember very well. Another thing I remember: he wasn’t afraid to let me take control. Hell, he even seemed to love it.
“And your name?”
“Liam,” he smiles. “Lucas is my cousin, but his husband Knox is the mastermind behind this.”
Shaking my head, I admit, “I don’t know the logistics of this, but I’d guess Knox was a willing pawn in Lexi’s game.”
He opens his mouth, but our server finally walks up. “Good evening, my name’s Oliver and I’ll be your server tonight.” With the typical spiel, he tells us this month’s signature dishes and cocktails.
I only realize now that Liam didn’t order a drink yet, and he raises his eyebrows in a question.
I guess even one drink indicates I plan on staying a while…
but now that I know he’s the mystery guy, I’m more comfortable being here.
Even a bit of excitement coils in my stomach, sparking like electricity.
One drink doesn’t need to lead to another night of sex. That would complicate things now, and I’m not interested in that.
Which is slightly unfortunate.
Deciding that wine is a safer option, I order a Riesling and wait for Liam’s next move.
“A bottle of that,” he says.
It surprises me. Last time, he was drinking whiskey. It seemed fitting—men always drink whiskey, even if they don’t like the burn. Yet, he actually enjoyed the drink. It wasn’t for show.
Oliver walks away, leaving us with our unopened menus.
Twisting my lips to the side, I glance down at it.
There was a special he mentioned that sounded delicious—the lobster tail layered on forbidden rice with some sort of coconut-cilantro sauce.
Emulsion, I think. Baking full-time doesn’t allow me a lot of time to keep up with my cooking skills, but podcasts and shows help me stay familiar with the trends.
There’s an appetizer Max has been teasing all over the restaurant’s Instagram. That’s what really has me questioning how badly I want to leave after one glass…
”You know,” Liam says, taking a sip of water, “Opening the menu doesn’t mean you’re agreeing to a five-course meal. You can take a look without any pressure.”
I’m surprised he noticed my internal battle, but a lot of our time at the bar was centered around food—mostly desserts, and the correct drink pairing.
I don’t fully remember how that conversation led us up to his hotel room.
I would say it was more due to the three drinks I’d had, but that’d be a lie.
Those only helped us both loosen up enough to do things you wouldn’t with your average hook up.
Or maybe just things that I don’t do with the average one-night stand. Like telling him to get on his knees for me… or fucking in the shower… and worst of all, staying the night. Sure, I slipped out before he woke up, but I still fell asleep in his bed for a few hours. It counts in my book.
Meeting his eye, I tap the menu and admit, “There are a few things I would like to try; if I open that menu, there’s a very good chance this will turn into a five-course meal.”
His brows flick up and an easy smirk pulls at his lips. “I’ve been schooled by you once before when it comes to food, so please.” He waves his hand and sits back, happy to let me make all the choices. I like that. He adds, “It’s on me. Order anything you want.”
My mouth drops open a little. Max’s is delicious but expensive. Like, two-hundred-dollars-a-person expensive, not including the bottle of wine. It’s why I only come here once or twice a year.
Instead of thank you, like a normal person, I clarify, “We aren’t hooking up again.”
There’s a minuscule part of me that hates myself for blurting that out. The other ninety-nine percent wants to flee at the idea of becoming attached to someone again—and there’s something about Liam Maddon that tells me I would become a barnacle to him if I weren’t so closed off.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Liam smoothly replies. I don’t give a fuck if it was my rule; I’m a little offended that he agreed so easily. Before I can respond, he adds with faux innocence, “Oh wait, I definitely did that a few times.”
My mouth nearly pops open at the same moment Oliver returns with our bottle of Clean Slate Mosel Riesling, but I bite down on my tongue.
“Have you had time with the menus? Maybe an appetizer to start?” Oliver looks between us, politely waiting.
Liam’s eyes are on me, letting me make the decision.
“The strawberry ceviche,” I start, glancing at Liam.
I’ve learned that most people are more adventurous when they’re trying pastries than they are with entrées.
Strawberry and jalapeno muffins? Now that’s something that would sell.
Making a mental note to talk to Chuck about that, I take in Liam’s expression.
He’s curious but not disgusted or put off. That’s a good sign.