“That’s a great vintage,” he told me. “Let it breathe for a minute and then give it a try.”
“Do you know a lot about wine?”
“I’ve been learning,” he said. “I find it very interesting. Maybe one day we can go to a tasting and I can teach you a few things.”
A wine tasting sounded like the most boring day I could think of. I liked wine, sure, but the extent of my knowledge was that white should be chilled and red shouldn’t. Ashley and I usually just picked up whatever was cheap from the grocery store.
“Cook, is that you?”
Greg spun around to face a middle-aged man. He was wearing a three-piece suit and had what appeared to be a full jar’s worth of gel in his hair. At his side was a busty red head in a skimpy dress with a huge swath of diamonds at her neck. She would have been pretty if she weren’t wearing so much makeup.
“Jeremy, great to see you!” Greg’s whole face lit up. You would have thought this Jeremy guy was his best friend. “And Kari, how are you?” He shook hands with Jeremy and leaned forward to kiss Kari’s cheek.
“This is my date, Emily,” he said, giving my side a little squeeze and smiling at me.
Jeremy smiled at me before turning back to Greg. “I thought you were going to call me about that Carter deal.” He shook his finger at Greg. “Are you holding out on me?”
Greg laughed. “My client wants to get a feel for all of their options first,” he said. “But don’t worry, I’ll give you a call.”
“Well, I’m glad I ran into you. I wanted to give you a heads up on the MacArthur acquisition. Things are really heating up.”
It went on and on like this. For the next fifteen minutes, Jeremy and Greg talked shop while Kari and I stood there, looking around the room. She seemed perfectly content to stand there and look pretty (or was she just drunk?), but I felt boredom creep over me almost immediately. When the two men finally shook hands, promising to talk more on Monday, I was so relieved I thought I might cry.
“Having fun?” Greg asked, smiling at me.
I looked at him, confused. Did he really think this was fun for me? “Um, I think your networking is a little over my head, to be honest.”
Greg laughed. “Consider yourself lucky. You get to look around, enjoy the atmosphere, and drink your wine. I have to bullshit with a bunch of smarmy executives.” The look on his face was so adorable, I couldn’t help but laugh.
“I guess you’re right.”
He stared at me intently for a moment. “You really do look amazing tonight,” he said, leaning a little closer to me. His proximity seemed to set off a million little tingles all across my skin.
“Thank you,” I whispered.
He was watching my lips now, and his eyes seemed to darken slightly. He’s going to kiss me, I thought, with a little leap of my heart. Before I could decide if I was excited or scared, another man came up next to him and tapped his shoulder.
“Greg!”
“Matthew!”
And off they went again. This time I tried to take Greg’s advice. I sipped my wine and looked around the room, taking it all in. I saw men and women dressed to the nines, jewels and perfectly white teeth sparkling in the dim lights as they drank and talked. On the far side of the bar, I watched as that Kari woman pounded glass after glass of champagne. Seriously, she must have had four in the ten minutes that Greg was engaged with Matthew. I could already see her start to tip slightly on her stilettos.
“You ready to get out of here?” Greg asked in my ear.
“Already?” On the inside, I was practically cheering. I didn’t want my time with Greg to end, but I also had no desire to stand in this room while he schmoozed either.
“I have tickets for the show downstairs.” He grinned at the surprise on my face. “I thought you might enjoy it.”
“Wow! Thank you, Greg! What’s the show?”
He shrugged. “I’m actually not sure. But the tickets were really hard to get, so it must be popular. And we have great seats. Shall we?”
He pulled my arm through his and led me to the door. As if by magic, Travis appeared to take us back downstairs. Once we were seated in the theater (front and center, just like Greg said), he let us know he’d be sending a waiter our way momentarily.
“Did you like that wine?” Greg asked, taking my hand in his.
“Um, yes, it was very good,” I said, thinking that the cheap stuff from the gas station was nearly as good. Apparently, I wasn’t much of a wine aficionado.
When the waiter arrived, Greg went ahead and ordered both of our drinks again—more wine. I tried not to feel disappointed that I was still missing out on the mystery purple cocktail. I would probably be too embarrassed to drink something so froufrou in front of Greg anyhow. I wondered what it had tasted like…
Once the lights went down, Greg wrapped his arm around my shoulder, and the feel of him, so big and solid against me, made me forget my complaints at once. He was so handsome, seemed so worldly and sophisticated. I felt giddy just being with him.
The entertainment was a magician. At first I thought it would be cheesy, but he turned out to be really cool. He brought a bunch of audience members up on stage and did a funny bit where he tried to read their minds. Then he made one lady’s necklace and ring disappear. When they somehow ended up in her husband’s pocket, I decided I was fully impressed.
By the time the show was over, I was feeling exhausted. I’d had three glasses of wine, my shoes hurt, and I had spent a good portion of the evening trying to keep myself entertained. It had been a long night. On the way home, Greg played some soft classical music; between the mellowing affect it had on me and the comfort of his heated leather seats, I had a hard time keeping my eyes open.
“You okay?”
I looked up at Greg, trying to rouse myself a little. “Sure.” I smiled. I looked out the window behind him and realized we were outside of my apartment. “Wow, I must have dozed off. I’m sorry.”
“Don’t worry about it.” Greg leaned closer to me, picking a strand of my hair off of my shoulder and rubbing it between his fingers. “I like that you feel safe and comfortable with me.”
“I had a really nice time tonight.” I was hyper aware of his proximity, of his finger tips gently rubbing on my hair. It felt like such an intimate gesture, it made my stomach flip in a really good way. Like riding a roller coaster.
“I love your hair like this,” Greg said softly, letting the strand slip through his fingers. He leaned closer to me, practically whispering into my ear now. “It’s very sexy, all sleek and soft. You should wear it like this more often.”
“Okay,” I whispered, feeling completely overwhelmed by the nearness of him. His voice was husky in my ear, the smell of his cologne practically overpowering my senses. How could any man be this attractive?
“Emily,” he whispered, moving even closer to my ear. “I really like you.”
“I like you too.” I wished, at this seemingly pivotal moment, that he was looking at me, instead of staring at my hair. But when he leaned in to kiss me, I forgot about any objections.
Greg’s mouth was warm, his lips soft against mine. It was a lovely kiss, gentle and sweet. It made me feel nice and warm inside, like I had just had a mug of hot tea. It was nice.
Okay, so there weren’t any fireworks or choruses of angels singing in my head. Time didn’t stand still when he kissed me. But there’s plenty of time for that kind of thing later, I thought, as I climbed out of the car and headed up to my apartment.
If that kind of thing even existed.
Chapter Fifteen
“So what’s this I hear about your new boyfriend?” Brooke asked the moment I picked up the phone.
“Hello to you too.”
“Yeah, yeah. Hello, how are you, I miss you. All that crap. Now get to the good stuff. Who’s the guy? And why the hell is this the first I’m hearing about it?”
“I didn’t want to make a big deal out of it.” I leaned back on the c
ouch, putting my feet up on the opposite arm. “It’s still pretty new.”
“Well, according to my sources, it is a big deal. Like, see each other every single night kind of deal.”
“You’ve been talking to Chris, I presume?” I said.
“Yes, I had to resort to asking Chris about my best friend’s love life because someone didn’t feel the need to tell me herself.”
“Sorry, Brooke,” I said, feeling a little guilty. “I just didn’t want to turn it into some big production. I want to see how things go first.”
“Were you worried I would disapprove?”
“Why would you disapprove?”
“Chris says you’re moving too fast.”
I threw my hands up in the air and looked around the room, wishing there was someone there to share in my incredulity. “Chris is getting mighty opinionated when it comes to my dating, isn’t he?”
“He was just telling me what he thought.” Brooke was quiet for a moment. “So. Are you moving too fast?”
“I haven’t even slept with him!” I cried.
“That’s not what I mean. Actually, I would be less concerned if you had. The fact that you’re waiting means it must be serious.”
“Which is something you should be concerned with?”
I couldn’t believe I was having this conversation. I had been dating Greg for three weeks now. Yes, we had been seeing an awful lot of each other. But what was the big deal? He continued to be nothing but a gentleman to me—he treated me better than any guy I had ever been with. Plus, he seemed determined to show me a good time and expose me to new things. Why shouldn’t I want to be with him as much as possible?
“That’s not what I meant,” Brooke was saying. “I just feel like maybe there’s something you’re not sure of, since you haven’t told me anything about it.”
“I’m sorry.” I blew out a gust of air. “What do you want to know?”
“Well, tell me about him!”
“Okay, let’s see. His name is Greg Cook. He’s twenty-nine, and he works in real estate. He sells all those big mansions up in Bloomfield Hills, remember that time you visited and we drove around up there?”
“Yeah, I was trying to find Eminem,” she said, and I laughed. As soon as Brooke found out I was going to be living near Detroit, she became convinced I would run into Eminem one day.
“Yeah, around there. So yeah, that’s what he does. And he’s pretty successful. He’s got a great apartment in Birmingham, and he’s always taking me out to really nice places.” I felt a flicker of pride, which I knew was ridiculous, so I tried to squash it. “And he’s very, very nice to me and really seems to like me. So it’s going great.”
“Okay, but what’s he like?”
“I thought I just told you.”
“You gave me his stats,” she said, and I could practically feel her rolling her eyes the way she did when someone wasn’t following her. “I want to know about him. What does he like, how does he make you feel? What kind of sense of humor does he have? What’s his taste in books and movies?”
“Jesus, Brooke, I’ve only been dating him for three weeks.”
“Don’t you think all those things are important in getting to know someone?”
“Of course.” I sighed. Why was it that Ashley was completely over the moon about Greg, convinced I was going to marry him, while Brooke had to give me the third degree? Why couldn’t there be some happy medium for my friends to agree on—like normal people would.
“We’re still getting to know each other,” I told her. “But from what I can tell, Greg is very cultured and sophisticated. He’s different from most of the people I know. It’s … it’s nice. He’s taking me to a vineyard out in the middle of the state in a few weeks for a wine tasting. I’m really excited about it.”
“You are?” Brooke didn’t sound convinced. “That doesn’t really sound like your thing.”
I felt a prickle of defensiveness. “Maybe because I’ve never tried it before.”
“Don’t get mad,” she said. “I’m just worried.”
“Really, Brooke? I couldn’t tell. Maybe you should try to be a little more obvious.” I knew my tone was sarcastic, pissy even. But I didn’t care. Why did she have to try and bring me down? Couldn’t she tell I was excited about this?
“Emily.” Her voice was calm; apparently she had chosen to ignore my obvious annoyance. “I just don’t want you to rush into something. Take your time and get to know him, that’s all.”
“That’s exactly what I’m trying to do,” I shot back.
“Good,” she said brightly. “Then I’m really excited for you, and I hope you’ll keep me updated.”
I sighed. Brooke may be pushy, but it was impossible for me to stay mad at her.
“So what’s new up north?”
“The ice is finally starting to melt,” she said. “There is talk of getting some boats out on the water soon.”
“I’m totally jealous right now, you know,” I said. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been out on the water?”
“Why don’t you get your ass up here then? Bring your new fancy man and let us all meet him.”
I tried to picture Greg up in Alpena, but for some reason the image wouldn’t form in my mind. “Maybe I will,” I said. “But I think I’ll wait until the ice has actually melted. Have you forgotten about the traditional March storm?”
She groaned. “I’m trying to forget it, believe me.” She was quiet for a minute. “Your dad would probably love to see you.”
I felt a surge of guilt. “God, I’m a terrible daughter, aren’t I?”
“No, you’re not.” Her voice was soothing. “But you will be if you wait much longer.”
I laughed. “Good point. Okay, I should probably get going. I have a date with my fancy man tonight.”
“Okay. Well, have fun. And maybe try to expose him to some of the stuff you know about. You might not be super sophisticated, but you are a pretty cool girl, you know.”
I snorted. “I’ll keep that in mind.”
Once I was off the phone with Brooke, I closed my eyes and leaned back against the couch cushions. I should be getting up to get ready. Greg was cooking dinner for me at his apartment that night. But talking with Brooke had created a little seed of worry inside me. The fact that Chris was worried—worried enough to actually go to Brooke with his concern—had thrown me. Was I moving too fast?
I thought back over the last weeks with Greg. It all seemed like a whirlwind to me, from our dramatic meeting, to that perfect first date, to all the time spent since. Greg made me feel special. How could I not, with a guy like him showing so much interest in me? He was everything that I had always seen as being out of my reach—worldly, charming, wealthy, and seriously good-looking. It still surprised me that he would want to spend time with me.
Okay, maybe it was true, what Brooke had hinted at. We rarely spent very much time doing things that were very “me”. Outside of our now typical Saturday morning jogs, everything we had done together had been completely Greg activities: dinners in fancy restaurants, nights out at posh clubs, playing tennis with his co-workers, networking with wealthy potential clients. I couldn’t see a lot of myself in our activities.
But that made sense, didn’t it? Greg was just more experienced than I was. What was I going to expose him to? Was I supposed to have him come hang out at the clinic while I chatted with Frank and ZiZi? Was I supposed to drag him along to the weekly Brew and View with Ryan and Chris?
Actually, maybe that wasn’t the worst idea in the world. Maybe I could ask him to spend some time with my friends. Not at the Brew and View, that was totally not his scene. But why couldn’t we all go out to dinner together, or something like that? Maybe if I could incorporate my friendships into my new relationship, everything wouldn’t seem so foreign to me.
I smiled as I jumped up from the couch. I only had about forty-five minutes to shower and get ready, and suddenly I was looking forward to
the evening a whole lot more.
* * *
“Pass me that garlic, would ya?”
I leaned over the counter to grab the bulb, handing it to Greg.
“Thanks.” He smiled at me as I settled back on my stool.
“Where’d you learn how to do all this?” I asked, looking around at the various cooking odds and ends scattered around the stove where Greg was stirring something in a pot. He put a little bit on the wooden spoon, holding it out for me to taste. It was a sauce of some kind, and it smelled delicious. I took a taste and closed my eyes; it tasted even better.
“I’ve taken some classes,” he said. “Mostly while traveling. I enjoy it.”
“Well, you’re pretty damn good at it.” I thought about my kitchen at home, where the only appliance to get any use was the microwave. I couldn’t even identify half the ingredients Greg had spent the last half hour dicing and sautéing.
“You don’t cook?” He paused in his stirring to look up at me.
“Not a bit. I am culinary challenged.”
“Maybe we should sign you up for some lessons.” Greg raised his eyebrows at me, a teasing smile on his face.
“I’m perfectly content to let you do the work.” Greg’s smiled slipped a little bit.
“You’ll want to be able to cook for your family one day, won’t you?”
I shrugged. My mom had never been much of a cook; I figured I got my saucepan scorching from her. Usually our meals were cooked on the grill by my dad. We were big meat and potato people.
“I’m almost done here,” Greg said. “Wanna set the table?”
“That I can handle.” I stopped to kiss his cheek as I passed, and his face seemed to light up. Greg was really big into casual displays of affection like that. It was one of the sweetest things about him. He had told me once that his mom and dad had always been that way, holding hands, kissing each other, even after twenty-five years of marriage.
The first time I had been in Greg’s apartment I had felt very out of place. For starters, it was huge. Bigger than my dad’s entire house. There were three bedrooms, each with its own bathroom, and everything in the place was top of the line. Granite counters, crown molding, flat-screen TVs, polished wood floors, stainless steel appliances. Unlike Ryan’s apartment, which was similarly high-end, but very modern, Greg’s place had a homier feel. It was the kind of apartment you could imagine a young family living in—if that young family had the money to live in one of the nicest apartment buildings in a wealthy town like Birmingham.
In Search of a Love Story (Love Story Book One ) Page 12
