It takes everything for me to break the kiss. She whimpers when I pull away.
“I’ve wanted to put my mouth on you all week,” I confess.
“Me too.”
“But I don’t want to miss our reservations,” I conclude, caressing her cheek with my thumb.
“You’re your own cockblock, you know?” Bree scoffs.
I let a raspy laugh out at her frustration.
“Bree, the whole purpose of going on a date is to go out,” I remind her, caressing her cheek with my thumb. “Plus, I made a reservation.”
Her forehead frowns, squinting suspiciously.
“Where are we going?” Her question carries a ton of curiosity.
Clearing my throat, I avoid her gaze.
It’s supposed to be a surprise. My battle with arriving on time is that I asked Ryder to pull some strings to get a good table. It’s probable that this dinner will make a hole in my pocket, and that I had to use my savings, but it’s worth it. I want to do something nice for her. I want to be the guy that’s right for her.
“To a restaurant.”
“You don’t say, Sherlock. I meant what’s the name.”
I bite the inside of my cheek.
“Red Veil,” I grumble.
Bree instantly shakes her head in a hostile gesture.
“We’re not going there.”
I need to blink a couple of times to process her severe tone.
“Excuse me?”
“We’re not going,” she repeats firmly. “First, it’s an expensive place. Ridiculously expensive.” Raising a finger, Bree starts to enumerate the reasons.
“I don’t mind spending money on you,” I fight back.
“That’s not the point, Stan.” Pursing her lips together, Bree inhales. “It’s too expensive and unnecessary. I don’t care about money or luxuries. You could take me to a fast-food, and I’d still consider it a great date because I’m going out with you.”
I swallow, trying to get rid of the tension that’s asphyxiating me. This is not the reaction that I thought I would get from her. The last thing that I wanted was for us to end up arguing before we even have the date.
Talk about screwing up.
“What’s the second point?” I ask in a low voice. “You started enumerating your arguments. What’s the next one?”
Bree’s eyes move to her window, focusing on the crystal instead of looking at me.
“My family owns the place,” she whispers so quietly that I can barely make out the words.
“What?”
“Don’t make me repeat it, please,” Bree pleads.
I’m confused and caught by surprise. I’ve never been this confused in my whole existence, especially when it comes to something like this. How come we’ve been friends for months, and I didn’t know this? The realization hits me like a cold wave crashing against me: for the same reason that I hadn’t told her about my economic situation.
The way she’s avoiding my gaze tells me that she’s embarrassed by this fact. Why is she ashamed of her family business? It’s a restaurant in the center of town.
“If your family owns it, are you rich?” That’s the only thing that I can come up with that doesn’t sound harsh.
A skeptical laugh emerges from her lips, turning to face me.
“Are you serious?”
I shrug as if it wasn’t a big deal, which shouldn’t be. Her family doesn’t define her. She’s still Bree, no matter what her back account looks like.
“What? I may have found my future sugar mommy without knowing it.” Her laughter only grows louder, and slaps my arm. “You don’t act like you have money.”
As soon as I say it, her smile fades and morphs into a disgruntled face.
“Because I don’t,” Bree answers, wrinkling her nose. “My family has money. This whole euphoria over the restaurant is pretty new. When it was under my grandparent’s management, it was a very different place. Familiar, happy, and accessible for people to come and go as they pleased. There weren’t any reservations.”
Bree sounds unhappy when she talks about it, sad as she seems to get lost in the memories of what it used to be.
“What happened then?” I dare to ask.
“My uncle happened,” she replies with a scowl. “When he took over the administrative side, he brought along a board of people that wanted to turn it into a place for rich snobs. They changed the name, and it lost the essence that it had when I was a kid and watched my grandma cook.”
It has to be sad to watch something that you loved to disappear and transform into something you no longer recognize. I’m unfamiliar with that feeling. Everything in my life has always been constant. But I can sense her discomfort with it, the sadness that’s hidden, the anger towards someone that shares her blood, and still destroyed a safe place for her.
“What about your mom? She was a chef, right?”
Bree nods.
“She’s the executive chef of Red Veil, but she went through hell to keep her job. The board wanted to fire her because she was a woman. She was more than qualified for the position. She went to culinary school, won competitions, and cooked for the best of the best. My uncle simply didn’t like that my mom managed to have a job and a degree while raising a toddler, and my dad was in the process of going to law school.” There’s a trace of fury on her words marking every sentence. “But the board still wanted someone else when the transition began.”
“Wait, wasn’t your uncle in charge? Your mom is his sister, why make it so hard?”
Bree rolls her eyes.
“Because she got knocked up. He’s a sexist asshole,” she replies bitterly. “So, there wasn’t always money in my house, especially during the first few years of my life. The restaurant was in transition for a while. It takes years to adapt something familiar to high class. I got to see what it was before it turned into this, and it still feels like something is missing from it. Anyway, I have my trust fund, and I can take care of myself, but my parents taught me to value what I have and work for what I want.”
It takes some time to soak up everything that Bree explained. Her parents raised her the right way. She’s down to Earth, and I like her even more for that. It’s refreshing because Bree’s not a snob or tries to act like she’s better than everyone around her when she actually could if she wanted to.
Now I can understand more the reason why Bree despised me before she knew me. Instead of seeing my personality, she was projecting on her anger towards her uncle. Bree only saw a rich kid wanting to take advantage to get what he wanted.
“Your uncle sucks,” I tell her. “I’m sorry that you had to lose something that meant something to you.”
“I’m sorry that I turned this into a fucking downer. It was supposed to be a date, and I buried it completely,” she apologizes, sounding slightly embarrassed.
“It’s okay. We just have to make other plans for this. No fancy restaurants, what else do you have in mind?” I ask because I want to know her opinions on where we go to eat. I have plans for later.
“You still want to go out with me after this?”
I flick my tongue.
“Babe, this was a healthy exposition of arguments. I got to know more about you, and we learned something.”
Bree sighs, leaning into me, hugging me in the most uncomfortable position that we’ve ever been, but I don’t complain. My chest tightens, knowing that I want to have more experiences with her. I want to get to know who’s the real Bree behind all of her chaos. I’ve never met anyone with whom I have this much chemistry. And I know that I’m getting used to the way that we fit together, understanding each other and learning how to be a team.
“You’re too sweet, Stan,” she mentions.
“Right, right.”
Chapter Twenty-Three
After debating for a couple of minutes about where we want to go, we choose to buy food from a small restaurant that we found online and go with the flow. This one doesn’t need reservation
s or a wallet full of Benjamin Franklins to pay the check. Bree seems okay with our choice, and I’m more than happy with whatever she chooses.
As I drive, Bree plays around with the music from my phone, since it’s the one connected to the car. I have to admit that I like her taste in music, and I think that she’s going to enjoy what we’re going to do later. She let me know that one of her safe places had transformed, so I’m going to show her mine—at least the one that’s in here and not back home. We’ll see if I can get her to come to Florida in the future.
Fifteen minutes before we get to the restaurant, the song’s playing gets interrupted by an incoming call. From the corner of my eye, I can see Bree’s face go pale.
“It’s your mom,” she announces in a mumble, sounding so terrified that her voice ends up sounding squeaky. “Through FaceTime.”
I choke back a laugh, doing my best to remain serious because I probably had the same reaction when I met her dad. Is this my time to repay her? No, she didn’t make me meet her dad, so I don’t have to make her have a conversation with my mom if she doesn’t want to.
“Just ignore it,” I tell her with a slight shrug.
Mom is probably going to scold me later until I give her a reasonable excuse for not answering the phone, but I don’t want to pressure Bree to answer. If there’s an emergency, she’ll call again. Plus, who the fuck answers a phone call in the middle of a date? It’s the most disrespectful thing in the world.
“What if she calls again?” Bree immediately questions.
“Bree, it’s just my mother,” I comment in a monotonous tone, hoping that it will calm her.
“But I’ve never met your mom,” she complains, sounding like it’s torture to hear the phone ring. “What if she doesn’t like me and starts to think that the reason why you didn’t answer is that I didn’t let you?”
Oh, God.
I can’t say that I don’t understand her fear, but at the same time, it’s ridiculous. When she meets my mother—if we get there—she will realize that there’s nothing to be worried about.
“Okay, let’s put a brake on those frantic thoughts,” I cut her off, keeping my voice sweet. “I don’t think it can be worse than me meeting your dad.”
The memory still haunts me. Her dad is fucking intimidating.
“Do you want to answer?”
“Do you?” I give her an option because I don’t really care if I answer the call or not. It’s my mom. I’ll talk to her tomorrow or next week. But Bree sounds desperate and like she’s in pain for a call that holds no importance.
With a shrug, Bree lets go of my hand and slides her finger over the screen, answering the call. However, before it connects, she points the camera towards me, keeping herself out of it.
Atta girl.
I didn’t expect any less from her.
“Stan, why on Earth are you on your phone while driving?” My mother’s voice fills the vehicle.
“Technically, I’m not holding my phone because my hands are on the wheel,” I excuse myself, rising my fingers slightly. I look at the phone for two seconds, and I can’t help but open my eyes with surprise at her sudden change. “Wow, your hair is green!”
A bright emerald green that tells me that she got bored, watched Brad Mondo’s videos and decided to experiment with the different colors. Although it looks great and the color suits her, I didn’t see it coming. But at least she didn’t shave her head—again.
“I know, I was dying to show you!” she exclaims with excitement. “Wait, if you don’t have the phone, who’s holding it for you? And since when do you wear that blue shirt?”
I notice Bree relaxing. Her shoulders aren’t stiff anymore, and there’s a trace of a smile on her lips.
“Because you’re imprudent and now my date is afraid of you,” I say, and Bree’s eyes widen.
My mom arches her eyebrows at my comment, intrigued by the fact that I’m on a date.
“You’re dating someone? Hold up, did you finally decide to date Ryder?”
Rolling my eyes, a red shade of embarrassment flows to my face. God, why does she have to be so imprudent? I should’ve told Bree to ignore the call.
“Please, shut it,” I plead, and turn to look at Bree, who looks like she’s going to explode with laughter. Her cheeks are bright pink. “My mom has this crazy idea that Ry and I are a secret gay couple and that we’re going to elope and get married at Vegas.”
She can’t help it. Her eyes shine with mockery and mischief.
“That explains why you guys act like a married couple, but it’s fine. I can’t really compete with Ryder. He already won this in every sense,” Bree mentions in a casual tone.
My mom grins, and I can tell that she already likes Bree.
Fuck me if I didn’t think this through. I should’ve guessed that they were going to team up against me.
“Let me see you,” mom begs, and Bree turns the camera sheepishly. “Oh, but you’re gorgeous. I’m sure that you can compete with Ryder.”
Bree tilts her head.
“Are you sure? Because he has a big advantage with the fact that he has a dick, and I don’t.”
Mom cackles.
I would be worried about Bree’s lack of filter, but my mom is the one that has me wanting to end the call. I know that she will end up something to embarrass me even more.
“I like you already. What’s your name?”
Here we go.
“Bree.”
“Huh, Bree,” Mom repeats, and I know that she remembers her from our past conversation. “Bree, the study partner with whom Stanley only studies at the library.”
Bree frowns, lost with my mother’s secretive tone.
“I guess. I mean, this whole dating thing is pretty recent, but I think that I’m that Bree.” She turns her face, squinting suspiciously. “Unless you study with another Bree.”
I snort.
“C’mon, as if you hadn’t monopolized my time during the past two months,” I remind her, and I’m not lying.
Bree owns my days to the point where I went to the city with her while she took photos because I wanted to spend time with her. Not in a wrong, sick way, but the purest form of the feeling. Our connection was always there since day one. We were too stubborn to see it.
“Ma’am, your son is clingy,” Bree tells her.
“I am not,” I protest.
Although, thinking about it, I’m almost one hundred percent sure that I’m the clingy one out of the two of us.
Wow, I really went there. A tremble runs down my spine.
“I believe you, Bree. Stan always had some issues with being independent.”
I groan with frustration. I need to end this now before she continues to spill things about me that I don’t want Bree to know. Not that I’ve done bad things in the past, but I do have some embarrassing stories that I don’t want her to know on the first date—or ever. That’s fine too.
“Mom, I think it’s time that you hang up,” I suggest.
Her gasp echoes in the car.
“Are you asking me to leave?”
“Yeah, that’s exactly what I’m saying.”
“You’re mean. Who raised you, kiddo?” She sighs dramatically, putting a hand over her chest.
“You did,” I remind her in a smartass tone, and mom shows me her middle finger.
“Before I go, did you make sure to buy new condoms?”
There it is. The shame that I was foreseeing. Shrinking in the seat, I can feel the skin of my face burning, my ears hot. Even when Bree chuckles, enjoying this whole exchange, I’m embarrassed that she had to hear that.
“Mom,” I beg.
“What? I’ve told you a thousand times to practice safe sex,” mom insists, and I know that she wants to get back at me for cutting the call that way.
“Bree, just hang up,” I ask her, wholly mortified.
But she seems to have a different idea by the way that her lips curve.
“Don’t worry. I’m
a responsible girl, and I bought a box myself,” she lets her know, winking before hanging up. The music plays again, but I’m too shocked to process it. “I like your mom.”
“I didn’t notice,” I mumble with sarcasm and gulp. “By the way, were you kidding, or did you really buy them?”
I wish I could say that I’m not intrigued by that part, as embarrassing as it was, it did bring something that made me curious.
“I guess you’ll have to find out.” That’s the only thing she says, digging her teeth in her bottom lip, her gaze darkening with pure desire.
Chapter Twenty-Four
I had forgotten that dating could be fun. In the past, I didn’t enjoy them at all because the guys that caught my interest, and vice versa, were total douchebags. I’m aware now that I had been sharing my time with the wrong ones. Stanley has changed the game for me. He has put the expectation’s bar high enough that I think he ruined the dating experience for me.
Stan has left a mark so deep in my soul that no one will be able to replace him. He’s a real golden boy, and I can’t believe that he puts up with my chaotic nature. There are many sides to him. He’s a flirt, a tease, and sometimes an ass. He gets on my nerves more times than I can count, and there’s a rough edge to his golden personality. But Stanley is also sweet, caring, and loving.
I think I may be falling hard for him.
Even when I know that it’s too soon to feel anything remotely intense for him, our connection is strong. I can see him, and I like who he is. The parts of him that he doesn’t let everyone see.
The restaurant that we picked ends up being the perfect choice because we have the opportunity to hold a conversation, sharing stories from our past until we’re both gasping for air. Stanley doesn’t act like a jerk when I eat half of my weight in fries, and stain my cheeks with BBQ sauce.
“How old is your mom?” I ask as we wait for dessert. Stanley raises a brow at my question. “She looks so young.”
Sweet Keeper (Sweet Talkers Book 1) Page 21
