Chapter 18
eighteen
We’re greeted outside the restaurant by staff opening the doors for us. They seat us right away, and our server just asked me what type of water I’d like to start with.
“Um—” My eyes jump to Chase for a fraction of a second. He’s sitting with both hands clasped in front of his mouth while he watches me with a trace of a smirk. I don’t know why I’m blanking. I know what types of water there are. Right? I’ve just never been to a restaurant this nice with a man this hot, and the combination is making my brain fuzzy.
“Spring is fine,” Chase answers for me, and I could kick myself. A great way to start out the night.
“Excellent,” our server, looking refined in a white button-down with a black vest, says with a grin. “I’ll have that right out.”
My eyes follow the man as he walks away. As nice as this place is, it isn’t stuffy. The guy who just took our water order has exposed tattoos on his forearms and bright blue glasses that remind me a little of Miles. It all helps to ease some of my nerves .
Chase catches me staring. “Blonde with tattoos. The only thing he’s missing is a beard, and he’d be your perfect man.”
I raise my eyebrows playfully. “Two out of three isn’t bad. Maybe I’ll go ask him what he’s doing later.” I set my napkin aside like I’m about to get up.
He points for me to sit with a trace of a smile pulling at his lips. “Not so fast. Tonight, you’re mine.”
Those words pour white heat into me, but I do my best to hide it. Tilting my head innocently, I ask, “You’d stand in the way of love?”
He reaches for his napkin, unfolding it and placing it on his lap. “I would. You might not know me that well yet, but I’m very selfish.”
Yet. It’s such a trivial word, but in that sentence, it could knock me out of my chair.
The teasing glint in his eyes helps me recover. “Fine,” I say with a dramatic sigh. “I guess I’ll just have to come back here on my own to seduce him.”
“I have no doubt you could.” Something new flashes in those eyes, but it’s gone in the matter of seconds. If I didn’t know better, I’d think it was a hint of hunger—desire?
Our server comes back with two waters, and we order our drinks, salads, and entrees. I choose the chicken piccata and Chardonnay, while Chase orders the prime rib and a glass of bourbon.
He clears his throat once we’re alone again. “So, what do you think of the place?”
I look around the dimly lit room with its sleek aesthetic. They’ve managed to make the place subtly festive. A pianist plays instrumental holiday music in the middle of the room while small bunches of fresh holly adorn each table beside a flickering candle.
“It’s amazing,” I say, still looking around in wonder. “I hope you know I’m not splitting this bill, though. ”
His laugh pulls my attention back to him. “I wouldn’t dream of it.”
The way he’s looking at me is too much. Sitting up straight in a desperate attempt to get back to business, I say, “So, tell me about yourself.”
He blinks. “What do you want to know?”
“Anything? Everything? Whatever your girlfriend should know about you?”
“Ah, right.” He nods. “Not much to know, really. My parents and sister still live in Massachusetts, but I live here. I moved for college and never went back, but sometimes I miss it. My sister has three kids who call me Uncle Cheesy—mostly because my sister finds it funny.” He looks up like he’s trying to remember if there’s anything else. “Oh, and I’m a bit of a workaholic, but I’m sure you’ve gathered that, and it’s not always by choice.”
I absorb every detail like a sponge, holding it in as the pieces of my Chase puzzle grow and click into place. “Uncle Cheesy?” I ask with a slight lift to my lips.
He laughs. “Yeah. I think it started as Uncle Chasey, but as soon as one of them pronounced it wrong, the new name stuck.”
“They sound wonderful.” I can totally see Chase as an Uncle Cheesy now that he’s said it. I picture him running around the house with three sets of tiny feet giggling after him. It’s adorable. “Will you see them for Christmas?”
Chase shakes his head, and my smile fades. “I haven’t been home for Christmas since my boss took on running the Christmas party. I think it’s been three years?” He shrugs. “I always try to take a week off in January to go see them instead.”
A comment about his boss is on the tip of my tongue, but I know that’s not what he wants to talk about, so I bury it and instead say, “At least you get to spend some time with them. ”
He smiles, but there’s a hint of sadness to it. “Yeah.” Snapping out of it, he gestures toward me. “But what about you? Any siblings?”
I shake my head. “Nope. Just two loving parents who get a little weirder every year.”
“Weird parents are the best.”
A smile warms my lips. “They really are.”
Seeing me laugh makes his smile stretch further, and something in my chest warms. I consider him. This beautiful man in this outrageously nice restaurant. “Why are you single?” As far as I can tell, he could probably have any woman he wanted. Why waste his time with a fake date?
Our drinks arrive, and Chase turns his attention to the person who dropped them off, thanking them. When he turns back to me, he takes a sip like he’s willing to abandon my question altogether.
I raise an eyebrow to prompt him.
“You want to know why I’m single?”
I nod.
He shrugs. “I had a somewhat serious girlfriend a while back, but we broke up last October. I’ve dated a little here and there, but nothing stuck.”
I press my lips together, trying to read between the lines.
Chase chuckles. “I don’t mind being single.”
“Of course, you don’t. As long as there aren’t any parties to go to, right?” I tease as I take a sip of my wine.
He narrows his eyes playfully. “Who knew going to a Christmas party alone would be such a mistake?”
“I mean, the number of mistletoes alone should have been a sign.” During the holidays you either have couples being cozy or singles looking for someone to get cozy with.
He nods after taking a sip and sets down his glass. “You’re right. I should have known.”
I let out a sigh and tease, “Such a damsel. ”
He grins. “I am. I’m a hopeless damsel who needs you, Candace.”
“But I’m sure you could find a real date for this party.”
He tilts his head, an eyebrow raised in interest. “Well, I was sort of trying to do that when we met.”
Realization hits me. Of course, he was. “Oh, the barista would have loved this.”
“Layla,” he corrects with the corner of his mouth quirked.
“Right, Layla. Well, she’s missing out.”
His smile stretches further. “I’m sure she’s happily doing something with her boyfriend.” He crosses his arms on the table and leans closer. “What about you?”
I blink. “What about me?”
“Why are you single?”
“Well, I’m certainly not taking people to places like this.”
“I don’t think you’d need to.”
The way he’s looking at me is starting to make me sweat. He’s too focused. Too intense. Too determined to see what’s beneath the surface. I swallow down the thought. “It wouldn’t hurt.”
He smiles a little more at that. “I have a feeling it isn’t hard to find someone eager to date you.”
Crossing my arms on the table, I match his position. “Well, if you ask Miles, I’m too picky.”
“And if I don’t ask Miles?”
I hold his gaze, my eyes searching his for an answer. “I don’t know,” I finally say. “I like my life, so unless someone is going to make it substantially better, it feels like a waste.”
He nods, taking in what I’ve said. “Sounds perfectly reasonable.”
“It does, doesn’t it?” I take another sip of my wine. “Plus, there just aren’t enough bearded blonde men with tattoos in the world. ”
“Tragedy,” he says with a sad shake of his head. “That’s not the type of guy you usually go for, though.”
“It could be.” I shrug. “I think how attractive someone is goes beyond the physical.” I give him a pointed stare. “I would never limit myself to just blondes.”
A teasing smile plays at his lips. “I never said I only date blondes. I said I usually go for blondes.”
I roll my eyes.
He takes a sip of his drink. “You really don’t have a type?”
I stare down the gorgeous but clueless man in front of me. Our salads arrive and we both sit up straight to make room for the plates.
“Chase,” I say as I stab my fork into the most beautifully plated garden salad I’ve ever seen.
He pauses before taking a bite, like my saying his name is of the utmost importance.
My cheeks heat. “I did give you my number, in case you’ve forgotten.”
“Oh, I haven’t forgotten.” He moves his salad around with his fork. “I just wanted to hear you say it.”
I glare at his smug expression as he takes his first bite before I go back to eating my own food.
“Am I still?”
I glance up at him. “Still what?”
“Your type.”
My chewing slows, and I let my eyes drag over him. From his thick hair to his sharp jawline, his beautifully angled features, kind eyes, and impeccable style. “No.”
He eyes me with amusement. “No?”
I stab another piece of lettuce with my fork. “Nope.” When I dare to look at him again, he’s still watching me. “Look, you’re pretty. That’s just a fact. But as soon as I realized it wasn’t me you were interested in, I only saw you as a friend.” I tap my temple with the back end of my fork. “That’s just how my brain works.” It’s a boldfaced lie, but I’m sticking to it for the sake of self-preservation.
He takes another sip, his eyes never leaving mine. “I like you, Candace.”
The approval in his tone shouldn’t make my body hum. I shouldn’t wish this table were smaller, so he’d be within reach. I shouldn’t look forward to the end of this extravagant meal because it means he might take me by the hand again. But even though I’d never tell him, I’m doing all those things.