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I steal glances at Jason from behind my menu. When he showed up at my place, I expected him to wear his usual outfit. He wasn’t. In fact, he made a gigantic effort, and I can’t take my eyes off him. The dark blue of his suit complements his eyes, and his ass looks uh-ma-zing in his pants. The leather shoes make my mouth water even more.
I peruse the menu, trying to decide what to order. Everything looks so good, it’s impossible to choose. I’ve never been to a swanky restaurant like this. Dreamed about coming here, absolutely. I never had anyone to take me until Jason showed up in my life.
“Do you have any recommendations about what to eat here?” I ask him.
“The bouillabaisse is supposed to be superb. Oh, and the French onion soup.”
Ew. There’s no way I’m ordering something with onions tonight. I’m secretly hoping this night might have a “happy ending,” and onions won’t be a part of that.
The waiter appears at our table, and we both order the bouillabaisse with a glass of French wine. We clink our glasses. “To this amazing night,” I say.
He winks. “And to us.”
I drink half my wine in one gulp. Hearing him say us is enough to make my thighs shiver with delight. Quenching my nerves will be expensive at ten dollars a glass, so I try to sip my drink instead of knocking it all back.
“Tell me about your family,” he says.
The question takes me by surprise. My family is one of my least favorite topics to discuss with people, especially someone I just met.
“That bad, huh?” he asks when I don’t reply right away.
“They’re not awful, but they’re judgmental and way too obsessed with external appearances.” I keep it vague on purpose. If he knew how dysfunctional my family is, he’d run for the hills.
“How so?”
I smile and shrug, pretending it doesn’t bother me that my family treats me like shit. “My sister is the worst of them all.”
“The one getting married? Maybe she’s suffering from a Bridezilla complex?”
I shake my head. “I wish it were that. The whole bride-to-be thing only magnifies her crazy tendencies. Like, she keeps emailing and texting me diet plans, healthy recipes, success stories from people who lost tons of weight in an unbelievably short amount of time.” I take another sip of wine. Thinking about my sister’s antics makes me nervous and sad.
“Wow, that’s rude. Why do some people think they get to decide how others live their lives?” He frowns. “Is she the reason you came to me?”
“Kind of. We threw her an early bachelorette party last week. Awful doesn’t even cut it. After dinner, we went to a club in the city. She and her friends said my outfit didn’t match the dress code, and I’d better go home since I probably wouldn’t get in. I’m not dumb. I knew they meant I looked too big in my dress.” Another sip of wine. “You know what? Fuck them. I’m happy with how I look. If they want to walk around and crunch on celery sticks all day, that’s fine, but I want to live instead of count calories.”
Jason smiles at me. He puts his hand on mine. “You’re right, Erin. Don’t let them get to you. You’re gorgeous.”
I laugh. “Would you want to come with me to the wedding and repeat those words in front of them?”
“I’d be honored to be your plus one,” he says.
At first, I think he’s going to burst out laughing, but he doesn’t flinch. He’s serious. My heart skips a beat at the thought of him and me at my sister’s wedding.
The waiter arrives with our food, and we both dig in. The ossobuco is even better than Jason said it would be. The flavors burst in my mouth, revealing their delicious richness with every bite. For dessert, we both order the crème brûlée. I love how the caramel crust breaks when my spoon hits the surface.
“This is by far the best dessert I’ve ever had,” I say when I’ve swallowed the last bite. “In fact, this was the best restaurant experience of my life. Thank you for taking me here.”
Jason smiles, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes. “If you’re not too tired, I’d love to take you somewhere else.”
“Color me intrigued,” I tell him.
He settles the check, even though I told him I’d be okay paying half, and we head to his bike. He hands me a spare helmet and helps me on the seat. He reminds me not to touch the exhaust pipes and to hold on tight.
I reach out and put my arms around him. From this position, I can touch his abs without coming across as creepy.
He revs the engine, and off we go. My heart rate picks up speed along with the bike. Not because he’s flirting with the tree line on the side of the road, but because I’ve never been this close to him. I love it.
I close my eyes and welcome the sounds of the wind and the motorcycle’s engine. They swirl around in my head while Jason’s scintillating scent infiltrates my nose. In high school, I used to fantasize about this exact moment. Not that I knew Jason back then, but I dreamed of being swept away on a motorcycle with a hot and sweet guy.
I go over the events of the past few days in my head. Last week, I was crying on the couch over my sister’s antics while eating cupcakes from the local bakery, Sweet as Cake. Harper, the owner, is a sweetie as well. She gave me a free cupcake with the four I ordered, probably because she felt bad for me. She bakes the best cupcakes, and they even taste great mixed with salty tears.
And now I’m holding Jason while he drives us to a mystery location after a fantastic dinner. I'd think I was dreaming if I couldn’t feel the wind hitting my calves or hear the engine rumbling.
After a while, he steers his bike off the main road, slowing his speed over the bumpy backroads. The tall trees sway in the wind, and before long, he comes to a stop.
I take off my helmet and can’t believe my eyes.
“What do you think?” he asks.
We’re standing on the edge of a path on Trout Creek’s mountain, and the small spot offers the most incredible view I’ve ever seen.
Lights spread out over the town in front of us. Main Street is lit, but the other parts of town are illuminated by nothing but the moon. Smoke circles from a few chimneys, floating away in the night.
Jason puts his helmet down and positions himself behind me. He snakes his arm around my waist as if we’ve never done anything else. It feels good. Safe.
“I can’t believe I’ve never been here,” I say, taking it all in.
“It’s a well-kept secret. No one ever comes here.”
“Do you always take your dates here?” I ask jokingly, hoping for a no.
He shakes his head. “Of course not. I come here to think. Alone. You’re the first girl I’ve ever brought up here.”
I turn my head and catch his eye. “Really?”
He nods. His features darken, and his face floods with emotions I can’t quite pinpoint. I wet my lips, instinctively knowing what’s about to happen.
He looks at me intently, silently asking me for an okay.
I nod. I want this. Need this. Want him.
He lowers his head, his mouth almost touching mine, and the whole world falls away as I eagerly wait for his lips on mine.