by Haley Weir
* * *
Time ticked by as Noah sat in a booth next to Mason while they waited for Liam and Will to show up. They didn’t have to wait long before the two of them came in almost one after the other.
With all of them seated, Noah allowed the waitress to take their drink orders before beginning. “Thanks for coming. I’m not great with this dating shit, so I wanted all of your advice to hopefully make the best of it. Before you think I’ve changed and that I want this, I don’t. I’m doing what I need to do on my end of this. Okay?” He sighed, then gave them a shrug.
Mason patted him on the back. “Thanks for coming to us. I’m sure it’s going to go well. You’ve never had trouble with ladies before. I can’t see why you’d feel pressured about this night out. Just have fun with it.” Of course Mason could say that. The man was admired and adored by men and women alike. There was a reason he was the CEO of their family’s company, and it wasn’t only because he was the oldest.
“Exactly. So, spill the details,” Liam urged, glancing over the menu again. “When is the date going to take place? Do you have any ideas?”
Noah bit his cheek, looking straight ahead at Will, who was also looking at the menu. “What I know is that it’s going to be tomorrow night at eight. I’m taking her to Hamilton’s at the Marina.” His words rushed out a little too quickly, and he cursed himself for letting his nerves show. “It’s hard to have fun with something like this. There’s so much pressure being put on me from both you guys and Ms. Prince.” He shook his head. “She tried to insinuate that I wouldn’t wear appropriate clothes for the restaurant. What the hell?” he muttered under his breath, fully aware that his brothers could hear him. “I gave her a piece of my mind in true Sinclair style.”
Will choked on his sip of iced tea while Liam and Mason burst into laughter. They went on for a while until first Liam and then Mason settled down.
“If only I could’ve been a fly on the wall to see her reaction. That’s funny, Noah.” Mason wore a wide grin as he shook his head. “So what exactly happened?”
Noah hadn’t expected that type of response from his brothers, but he had to admit, it made him happy seeing them laugh and have fun. Even Will had a smile on his face. “Basically, she told me to make sure I stuck with the restaurant’s dress code since I chose an upscale place. She emailed me tips on how to dress. I told her that my family comes from wealth, and they didn’t raise me to be an ignorant shit and to watch her condescending remarks. She laughed and told me she must have been mistaken about me...whatever that means.”
“Way to go.” Mason nodded, his grin falling into just a smile. “You really did stand up to her, little brother. Don’t make a habit of telling people off, but sometimes you gotta show people what you are made of.”
Will cleared his throat as the waitress approached. They placed their dinner orders and waited for her to leave before continuing their discussion. “So,” Will said, “you know where you’re going to take her, but is that all you have planned? Just dinner?”
Noah widened his eyes a little. “Uh...what else should I be doing? Ms. Prince said she’s a ‘busy’ woman. I doubt she’d want to go to a movie, too. Hell, I wouldn’t even know what kind of movie to take a chick that I don’t know at all.”
His brothers exchanged a look that he wasn’t sure he liked. Liam piped up first. “The first date is all about getting to know her. You wouldn’t want to take her to a movie. That’s impersonal. Why not plan on bringing her roses and then taking her out to the marina? Maybe show her around.” He shrugged his shoulders and looked to their other two brothers for more ideas.
“What Liam said,” Will echoed. “I took Sophie out for a picnic on the water in the boat. It wasn’t the yacht, but it was still an experience that she told me she really enjoyed.” He smiled to his younger brother. “You’re going to do fine. We all believe in you.”
Noah stared at his brothers. He wasn’t exactly sure he believed them, but their delicious food soon arrived, which took his mind off of the subject. He couldn’t remember the last time the four of them were together like this. Regardless of the frustrating reason why they had met up, he would make sure this was not the last time they gathered like this.
Chapter Nine
Hamilton’s at the Marina’s maître d’ checked the reservation system for the third time and shook his head. “I remember speaking with you and putting your dinner reservation into our system myself, Mr. Sinclair, but for some reason, there’s no sign of it anywhere. Unfortunately, the tables overlooking the water have all been taken. My sincerest apologies for your inconvenience. I can squeeze you and your date into one of our other tables and switch around the reservation. It won’t be ideal, but at least you won’t be left without dinner plans?”
Noah wanted to slam his head against a wall. At least he’d gotten to the restaurant a little early. If all of these problems popped up with his date there, he might’ve just said to hell with it. That wouldn’t have made a good first impression by any means. He nodded. “Yes, I’ll take another table then. I appreciate your help.”
The line of people behind him didn’t appear to share his sentiment. He caught the scent of annoyance and anger at him holding up the line for everyone.
The maître d’ glanced over Noah’s shoulder a few times, fully aware of the discontent. It didn’t seem to rattle him one bit; the man had nerves of steel. “I’ll make sure your companion finds you. If you’d like to follow me?” He took two menus from his podium then walked him to the table.
It wasn’t much to look at compared to the other tables in the restaurant. The two-seater was against a wall and appeared to barely have enough room to move their elbows, let alone eat dinner. Were both of their plates even going fit there along with two glasses of wine?
Noah opened his mouth to complain, but the man had done him a favor by even giving him this. He closed his mouth again and gave him a fake smile and nod before taking a seat. “Thank you.”
He placed the red roses on her side of the table. The less time he had to look at them, the better. They weren’t exactly what he’d hoped for when he’d ordered them over the phone. Instead of being the epitome of romance, they just looked wilted and sad. He considered dumping them the moment he saw them, but that would be a waste of money.
The woman he was here to meet would probably do that exact thing after their dinner seeing the crappy roses and tiny table. To say he was feeling pessimistic would be an understatement.
The waitress came by the table and gave him a glowing smile. She was short, blonde, and curvaceous. She was exactly the kind of chick he wouldn’t mind showing a good time, but her gaze slid over to the table seating across from him and the smile died on her lips. “Hello, my name’s Chelsea, and I’ll be serving you this evening. I see you’re still waiting for someone. Can I get you something to drink while you wait, or should I come back?”
Noah glanced behind him to see if he could spot the maître d’ escorting any single women in his direction, but that was a negative. He turned on his usual charm for the waitress and smiled. “Hi, Chelsea. I’ll go with a bottle of Pinot Noir.”
Chelsea’s lips parted a little. Her white teeth briefly flashed as she bit her lower lip. All signs of the deflated girl were long gone. “Of course. I’ll be right back with that.” She winked at him and walked away, swaying her hips as she went.
It wasn’t long before Chelsea was back with the bottle of wine. If only he could say the same thing about his date, who had yet to show up. It was now fifteen minutes after their scheduled time, and he had downed two glasses of wine. The first had been from nerves and the anticipation that his mystery woman would be there at any moment, and the second was due to boredom and a growing frustration. He suspected that he was being stood up. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Chelsea stare at him with sad, compassionate eyes. The last thing he wanted was to look like an idiot or be pitied.
He poured himself his third glass of wine, contemplating whether he want
ed to just drink the bottle of wine and go grab something from McDonald's, or if he was going to suck it up and order food here. Eating alone at a fancy restaurant like this after he'd been stood up just felt too pathetic, though.
Just as he was gathering the courage to settle the check and leave, he looked around to find the waitress and spotted the maître d’ escorting an elegantly dressed dark brown-haired woman wearing a dark green dress in his direction. Was that the woman he'd been waiting for? For a brief moment, he doubted it was likely, but at the maître d’s smile, he realized it was true.
How in the hell was he supposed to feel about that? The woman was beautiful with curves in all the right places, but she was late. She couldn't bother to show up on time. Was that because she was such a busy woman, or did she not give a shit about his time?
The look on her face when she spotted him was one of surprise. Her eyes widened and her lips parted. She nearly missed someone pushing out their chair and stumbled slightly before catching herself and blushing a deep pink. Her long eyelashes lowered, and she licked her ruby red lips.
Even though he didn't want to like her after this evening's many flaws, something about her called to his beast. If he hadn't been slightly relaxed from the wine, he might've missed it, but he drew in a breath as she passed. Her vanilla and honey scent made him want to bury his nose in her hair, but he wasn’t here to do that. They were going on a date or just eating dinner together.
There wasn't likely to be much of a relationship for them in the future. He'd go back to the drawing board with Ms. Prince because he wanted someone less 'busy' who respected his time. But that didn't mean he couldn't try to enjoy what remained of the evening like his brothers suggested.
* * *
If only she’d left earlier and hadn’t followed her stupid GPS’s directions, Isabella would have arrived to her date on time. Instead, she'd been so paranoid about getting lost that she'd let her GPS give her weird directions even though she knew something was fishy about them.
Nothing seemed to go right when she was getting dressed, either. The heels she'd wanted to wear were nowhere to be found, even though she'd seen them the other day. That, and the dress she planned to wear had a spot on it.
Before finally arriving at the restaurant, part of her had contemplated just saying to hell with this date. She wanted to crawl into bed and not think about men, dresses, or directions to restaurants. But she couldn't stand someone up like that. It would be awful and rude. Plus, it certainly wouldn't garner her alias any favors with Ms. Prince. After paying her all of that money, the last thing she needed was for Ms. Prince to drop her as a client. A shiver chased up her spine at the thought.
To her surprise, the seriously hot guy had already ordered a bottle of wine, and it was half-way empty. Was this guy an alcoholic? Would he start swaying in his chair and try to entice her to take him home? But as his eyes scanned her body, she could tell that he likely wasn't even buzzed. He was sharp and present...maybe a little too sharp and a little too present.
"Here you are, Mr. Sinclair. I hope you both have a pleasant evening dining with us."
The maître d' gave them both a pleasant smile after seating her and then he disappeared back to the front of the restaurant.
"Hello," she said, glancing down at the table to see the wilted roses. It was the worst bouquet she'd ever seen. No, no, no... "um, thank you for the flowers." She held them up and watched as they slumped downward in her hands. "They smell nice." That wasn't totally untrue. "I'm sorry for keeping you waiting. I had trouble finding the restaurant." Also true, even if most of that was her GPS's fault.
"Hi," he replied. His gaze swept over her face, and he narrowed his eyes as if he was challenging her. He knew she was lying. What the hell? "You can be honest about the flowers. They're not what I'd hoped for. Anyways, I guess we should introduce ourselves. I'm Noah Sinclair." He held his hand out to her across the small table, and she blinked at it. A handshake?
"I..." What did he expect her to say? That she hated the roses? "I'm Isabella Simons." The fake last name rolled off the tip of her tongue with practiced ease as she accepted his hand for the awkward handshake. He had a firm grip with smooth, yet slightly callused, hands. "It's good to meet you." Sinclair? That last name sounded familiar, but she couldn’t place where she heard it before.
"I hope you like seafood, but if you don’t, they also have good steaks." He nodded toward the menu before her. “I ordered some red wine, if you’d like some.”
“I enjoy both seafood and steak. I’ve heard great things about this place, but I’ve never been here before.” Her gaze dropped to the wine bottle. Isabella enjoyed wine, but reds didn’t interest her. She contemplated telling him that, but there was enough going on already without making things worse. “Sure, thank you.” Even though this night wasn’t going according to plan, she felt strangely drawn to Noah. He wasn’t the Army vet or the rich businessman she’d browsed, but he was hot as hell and looked like he had a great physique under his suit. There was also else about him that made her want to ask a million questions, but she used restraint.
He poured her a glass wine and topped his own off a little. “You look lovely,” he commented, surprising her. “I have to admit, you’re not quite what I expected.”
That was quite the backhanded compliment. “Thank you, I think?” She chuckled even though part of her wanted to crawl under the table. “You look really nice, too.”
The waitress came over to the table, giving Noah an almost wicked smile before looking at Isabella with disinterest. "Hello, I'll be waiting on you both tonight. Are you both ready to order, or do you need a few minutes?"
Without asking if she was ready or not, Noah began to place his order of steak and salmon with mashed potatoes and asparagus. That left her to frantically eyeball the menu while he spoke, even if it was hard to concentrate on anything she was reading with the sound of his rich, deep voice filling her ears. She finally ended up going with salmon, rice pilaf, and seasonal vegetables.
When she handed off the menu, she felt a wave of relief wash over her. She rushed into her order, but there was nothing she could do about it now. Maybe she'd come out here with Courtney, Olivia, and Sophie sometime to try something else.
The two of them sat in silence for a little bit as they sipped on the wine before Noah spoke up. "So, tell me about yourself. I heard that you're a busy woman. What do you do?"
Isabella frowned at him. He'd heard what? A busy woman? What was he...? Then she remembered her alias, and the details that she told Ms. Prince about her fake life. She opened her mouth to reply, but she suddenly couldn't remember her fake job description. It was as if the information flew out of her head. After he stared at her so intently earlier like a human lie detector, she didn't feel comfortable outright lying to him when she was bound to fumble and fail this date.
"A little about me? I'm busy, but what woman isn't? It doesn't help that two of my friends are getting married soon and a third is planning a wedding for later this year. Going to dress fittings and cake tastings is..." Not exactly her ideal picture of a day, not when she was lonely and wishing for a man of her own. "It's a thing." She shrugged, opting for truth. "I'm happy for them and everything, but it just made me realize that I want things out of life that I don't have right now. I want to live life more and have fun, but I want to do that with someone by my side.” She shook her head. “Either that, or I guess I should start buying cats.” Her cheeks flushed. Did she just imply she’d be perfect crazy cat lady material? What was wrong with her mouth? If she kept it up, she would be a crazy cat lady. And soon.
Noah chuckled and raised his wine glass to her. “I’ll toast to all of that, except the last part. My brothers are getting married. I don’t have to do much like you, but just hearing them talk about getting married and having kids and all of that white picket fence bullshit drives me crazy.”
Isabella wasn't quite sure they were seeing eye to eye on the subject like he thought they
were, but she felt a kinship with him either way, and they finally had something in common to talk about. She clinked her glass with his. "Cheers. It's nice meeting someone else who knows what I'm going through. Kindred spirits, huh?"
The look on Noah's face had softened a little from the initial sharp, eagle-eyed stare he'd given her. "Yeah, I guess so. How do you deal with it all?"
She sipped on her wine before setting it on the table and shrugging. "One day at a time, plenty of wine, and ignoring my text messages a little too much. I actually missed two lunch invites because of it." She placed the tips of her fingers above her lips in an "oops" expression.
"I tried the ignoring text messages thing, too. Didn't work out too well for me. My family got really worried. By the time I finally saw them, they were ready to send out search and rescue."
From the serious tone in his voice, she couldn't be sure if he was being sincere. Knowing some of her friends' parents, she figured the possibility was all too real. "Wow, that's...yeah. I can see how that wouldn't be a great idea for you. What do you do in your spare time?" That was a better question. One that wasn't very interesting in her case, but she wondered what a guy like this did for fun.
"Aside from living the life of a guy hiding from his brothers and parents when they get all wedding crazy? I hang out with friends, go surfing, swim. The usual. Nothing too crazy. How about you? What do you do when you're not hiding from your friends?" His lips quirked in a grin, and she felt more at ease than she had all night.
"I hang out with my friends, try to zone out when they talk shop about weddings, go dancing, swimming, etc. You know-"
The waitress sidled up to their table holding a tray with their food. She first gave Noah his plate, then as she swung her arm to set Isabella's plate down, her elbow connected with Isabella's mostly full wine glass, and sent wine splashing into her abdomen and lap.
Isabella's eyes widened, and she hopped up, slamming her chair into the man's chair behind, causing him to jump up too. She could already hear him cursing up a storm, ready to let someone have it. The large growing stain on her dress spread downward as the wine dripped. She couldn’t believe this was happening.
