Chapter 23
Chapter Twenty-Three
SKYE
My head’s still swimming an hour later as I study myself in the bathroom mirror.
All the inner ecstasy I’m feeling right now has given my skin and eyes a nice glow.
I’m in borrowed clothes, because I didn’t bring anything with me that’s date appropriate—not unless the date is bowling, which Daniel assured me it isn’t.
Luckily, Josh and I are mostly the same size, and when I told him what I needed clothes for, he threw open his closet so fast, the doors nearly came off.
So I’m in nice jeans that don’t fit quite as well as my usual date jeans, but are close enough, with a short-sleeved slim-fit button-down in a pale lilac color that makes my eyes and hair look great. I take a deep breath as nerves jitter in my stomach.
Daniel wants me. Me. He wants to date me. I’m the reason he realized he likes men too. Me! Part of me can’t quite believe it and keeps waiting to wake up. The rest of me is all over this like white on rice. All my dreams are coming true.
I pinch myself. Just in case.
It hurts. Dammit. That’s probably going to leave a bruise.
Speaking of bruises… I angle my head, and the shirt collar falls away from my neck, revealing the shadow of last night’s hickey.
Gotta remember to bring that up later. Hopefully the collar will hide it from sight, though—Dan said we’re not going to town, but still, there’s a good chance we’ll run into someone we know wherever we end up, and the last thing I need is for people to start talking about how Daniel likes to chew on me.
I shiver as I remember how he reacted to the mark on my hip.
My phone beeps, and I check it. Daniel’s ready.
Okay. Another deep breath. This is going to be great. He’s already said he likes me. We’ve already fucked. And we’ve known each other for years. There are no surprises here… things can only get better.
Phone, wallet, key fob, and out the door.
My phone rings while I’m on the stairs. I don’t recognize the number, and I’m in a hurry, so I send it to voicemail, then race the rest of the way downstairs, only to stop suddenly in the main hall. Josh and Ewan are standing there awkwardly, pretending to talk but really waiting for me to leave.
“Skye,” Ewan says with credible fake surprise. “Going out?”
Josh elbows him in the side. “I’m so happy for you.” He grabs me in a hug. “You look great. Have a good time.”
Aww. That’s sweet. And only a little bit creepy.
“Thanks, Josh. I will. Don’t wait up,” I tack on with a wink, and Ewan laughs.
“I’m staying here tonight. Just so you know.”
Annnd that’s almost permission for us to have sex in every room of the cottage. I wonder how much salt they have there. After this afternoon, I’m feeling shy.
I flip them a wave and head out. My phone buzzes in my pocket—probably that voicemail notification.
It can wait. Daniel’s car is outside the front entrance, and he’s leaning against the driver door, looking altogether delectable in dark jeans and a burgundy shirt.
I can’t wear colors that bold without looking washed out, but on him it’s perfection.
He straightens when he sees me and smiles big, causing the butterflies in my stomach to take flight again. “Hey, good-lookin’,” he teases. “Wanna go for a ride?”
Laughing, I pause at his side long enough to kiss his cheek, then walk around the car and get in. “Please don’t tell me that line’s worked for you.”
“First time I’ve ever used it,” he admits, starting the engine. “But you do look good.”
“Thanks. So do you.”
He puts the car in gear and starts down the driveway, then extends his hand in my direction, palm up. I blink at him. What…?
Oh my god, he wants to hold my hand.
I’ve never moved faster in my life than I do then, slapping my hand into his palm before he can change his mind. He curls his fingers around it and holds it on the center console.
“So,” I say, trying to sound normal, “where are we going?”
“Moline,” he replies. “Kieran used to work with a chef at one of the nice restaurants on the river. He called and sweet-talked a table for us.”
I’m impressed. I thought we’d be going a couple of towns over to one of the family restaurants in the area. “Well done, you.” I pause. “And Kieran. Though I’m kind of surprised he didn’t text me when you told him we were going on a date.”
Daniel shrugs. “Maybe he’s waiting until later, when there’ll be more to tell.”
That doesn’t seem likely. “Or Josh has already filled him in on everything.”
He laughs. “Is it weird that our friends know so much about our lives?”
I don’t even need to think about that one. “Yes. But to be fair, we know just as much about theirs. And since I love gossip and wouldn’t want to give that up, we’ll just have to take the bad with the good.”
We talk the whole way to Moline, and I’m almost surprised when we get there. It’s not that far—about forty-five minutes—but I’ve never had the drive go so quick before. Regretfully, I let go of his hand to get out of the car.
Shocking the pants off me, he clicks the fob to lock the car, walks around the hood, and holds his hand out. Is… is Daniel publicly affectionate with his dates?
I take his hand again. This is already the best date I’ve ever been on, and we haven’t even walked into the restaurant yet.
The place he guides me to definitely fits the description of “nice restaurant on the river.” I have no idea what Kieran told his friend, but when Daniel gives his name, the host lights up and leads us out to the patio.
We’re seated at a table overlooking the water, offered champagne, and smiled at in a way that’s probably supposed to be benevolent but comes off as a little creepy.
When he finally leaves, I look across the table at Daniel. “Um… what was that?”
He shakes his head, but he’s grinning. “Disturbing. I was so sure he was going to offer to sing to us or something. Did you want the champagne?” He refused it for both of us, but now he seems unsure.
“Nah. I’d rather have a beer, especially with steak. Or a martini.”
“How do you know you’re going to have steak? We haven’t seen a menu yet.” There’s a teasing little smile on his mouth, the same one he gives me most of the time. I love that smile. You know, when I don’t want to slap it off his face.
I roll my eyes. “Duh. It’s a steakhouse.”
“They’ll have other things too.”
“Yeah, but steak is their thing. You don’t go to a sushi restaurant and order pasta. Stick to the chef’s specialty.”
He chuckles, but the man in chef’s whites who stops beside us says, “That’s what I love to hear.”
This must be Kieran’s friend… who feels the need to come out of the kitchen on a busy Saturday night and greet us personally. What the hell did Kieran say to get this reservation?
“I’m Cole, the head chef,” he introduces himself.
“Skye,” I say, then point. “And Daniel. Hey. Thanks for helping out.”
He smiles. “My pleasure. Do either of you have any food allergies or strong dislikes?”
“Tripe,” Daniel says right away. “My gran used to make me eat it, and I swore I never would again.”
I shudder. “What he said. And also no asparagus for me. I’m still not recovered from the year of asparagus.”
They both shoot me puzzled looks, but Cole doesn’t ask, just says, “Then, if you don’t mind, I’d like to prepare something special for you. Or would you rather order from the menu?”
“I’m good with something special.” I quirk a brow at Dan, who nods.
“Me too. Should we order beer or martinis to go with?”
Cole grins. “Either would be fine. Jess will be over in a second to take your drink orders.” He pauses. “We’re glad to be a part of your special night.”
My smile feels awkward and plastic, but Daniel swoops in to the rescue. “Thanks. We’re so grateful to be here.”
I wait until Cole’s out of earshot. “We’re grateful to be here?” I mock. “Oh my god, what did Kieran tell him? If he’s expecting one of us to propose, I might have to fake a choking incident.” Not that I don’t have wedding dreams starring Daniel, but waaaaaay too soon.
“I’m sure he’s not expecting a proposal.”
“Hi, I’m Jess!” A bouncy brunette with a big smile comes over to us. “I hear you’re having a special night.” The smile turns sappy—that’s the exact look people get in rom-coms during the I-love-you scene. “What can I bring you to drink?”
“Martini, please. Vodka, olive, straight up.” Beer isn’t going to be strong enough.
“Same for me,” Daniel says after a look at her smile. She clasps her hands together and gazes at us both, then leaves, and he turns back to me. “Maybe you should text Kieran and make sure nobody’s expecting a proposal.”
My phone’s already in my hand. I shoot off the message quickly. “Done. And just so you know, if we do have to fake a choking episode, I’m really good at it.”
“You’re really good at faking choking?”
I shrug. “It’s a skill I’ve cultivated.” This isn’t the place to explain why, though after this afternoon, he might be able to guess.
He looks like he’s going to ask, but my phone beeps.
Haha relax. No proposal. Connor made me tell him you’ve been secretly in love for years and finally get to be together.
Uh. Well, that’s true, but I can’t tell Daniel that, can I? It’s not exactly first-date appropriate to admit to years of unrequited yearning.
Before I can decide what to say, another message appears.
Is that true? Why did I not know anything about it?
I snort. What does he expect, that I was eager to tell all our mutual friends and colleagues I had a stupid one-sided crush on the straight guy?
Thanks, talk later!
“So?” Daniel asks.
“He said we’d been pining for each other and finally pulled our heads out of our asses,” I prevaricate. It’s almost true. “No proposal.”
He blows out a breath. “That’s a relief.”
“Now we can enjoy our dinner.” I look around. “And gotta admit, this VIP treatment has perks. Prime table, special treatment from the chef…” …man of my dreams sitting across from me, looking at me with a soft, fond smile.
Things are definitely looking up.
“Speaking of the chef… what’s with the year of asparagus?”
“Oh my god.” I roll my eyes. “When I was in high school, one year my dad decided to try growing his own vegetables. He got all excited about it and kept talking about how great it would be to have fresh, home-grown veggies. But he’d never grown anything before, and I guess he did something wrong…
or maybe bugs ate everything? Or birds. I don’t know, it was something like that.
The only thing that actually survived was the asparagus, probably because he got the plants from a friend and they were already mature.
And instead of just going with it and enjoying what he had, he asked his friend for more asparagus plants—enough to fill all the space left by the vegetables that failed.
We had asparagus every day through that spring and summer, sometimes for lunch and dinner, and he was giving it away to anyone who’d take it.
” I shudder lightly at the memory. “I used to like asparagus, but even though it’s been about ten years, I still can’t stomach it now. ”
“I’ll remember that. Next time you turn into a drill sergeant and hide my pants, I’ll make you asparagus for dinner.”
I ignore the whole drill sergeant thing. “You can’t cook,” I remind him, though he can. Sort of. He’s a champion at reheating things other people cook, and he can handle spaghetti and a hot breakfast.
He shrugs. “Grilled asparagus is a thing, right? I can manage that. Probably. It might turn out to be blackened asparagus.”
Our drinks arrive just then, hopefully distracting him from the idea of ever serving me asparagus. Blech.