by Piper Rayne
“Lauren,” Maddie sighs although everyone in this room knows the two of them can’t go more than fifteen minutes between kisses when they’re in the same room.
“I’ll wait until I get her up in the room. That’s my only promise.” Mauro smacks Maddie’s ass as she rounds the staircase to head up.
“I’m going to The Little Coffee Shop.” Lauren grabs her jacket and heads toward the door. “You two have fun and be sure to do something I would do.” She winks at us and places her hand on Cristian’s arm before sliding out the front door, leaving me alone with him.
“Thank you for these.” I hold them up then place them on the foyer table.
“You didn’t really scream a flower girl.”
I grab my own jacket and Cristian takes it from my hands to hold open for me. I slide my arms through and pull my hair out from being tucked under the back collar.
“Ready?” he asks.
I nod and step in front of him. Once I lock Maddie and Mauro in the house, Cristian walks next to me down the short walkway to where his car is parked at the curb.
I hadn’t thought about what Cristian would drive, but a little sporty Audi wasn’t it. I assumed a Honda or Toyota. Something reliable and good on gas mileage.
“Nice car,” I say as he opens the passenger door for me.
“Bet you were expecting a Prius?” He smiles and I’ll admit my insides might quiver a little at his brilliant white teeth on display and the boyish charm the smile adds to his face.
“Well, it fits…”
“Stereotyping, huh?”
I shrug.
He says nothing for a moment as he stands there, ready to shut my door. “You look beautiful tonight.” His gaze flows up and down and his dark eyes practically turn molten as he takes in my body. I cross my legs to ease some of the building pressure pooling between my thighs. “Even more so in my car,” he adds.
Since I can’t seem to get a word out, he shuts the door.
As he winds around the front of the car, I take in his dark gelled hair, his stylish sweater, and designer jeans. When he slides in next to me, his cologne fills the space and I force myself not to close my eyes and bask in the scent.
Damn it, resisting him is going to be harder than I thought.
Chapter Four
Vanessa
Cristian parallel parks like a pro. Probably not impressive to anyone who actually has a driver’s license, but the thought of squeezing a car between two other ones scares me to no end.
“What’s this place?” I ask.
“It’s called Farm to Table. It’s new.” He shuts off the car and turns to look at me, waiting for me to say something else.
I purposely don’t.
He opens his door and I hem and haw in my mind whether I should just climb out myself, but while I’m thinking about it, he beats me to a decision and opens the door for me. He offers his hand, but I climb out without his assistance. I catch his small smirk thinking I’m purposely being difficult. Maybe I am. This date cannot go well. Nothing good could come of that.
“Is this a health food place?” I ask, happy I had that Pop Tart and Coke if all I’m going to be served is kale and greenery that looks better as a garnish then it does as my meal.
“No. It’s just organic, grass-fed beef and locally sourced produce.” He opens up the glass door for me to walk in ahead of me.
“So, steak is an option, then.”
He follows me into the dimly lit restaurant that has a definite intimate feel. Not exactly what I expected based on the name of the place. Candlelight flicks against the dark stained wooden tables and cushioned fabric chairs. Overhead yellow lights are encased in chicken coop wire, giving it a flair of expensive but carrying through the farm theme.
“Bianco,” Cristian tells the hostess, whose eyes take a leisurely stroll over his gorgeous face and lean, athletic body.
The invitation in her gaze has me grinding my molars, but only because it’s so completely against girl code to be checking out another woman’s date. Because really, what do I care? He’s not mine. Maybe if I get her number for him, he’ll stop using mine.
“We have the table ready for you.” She takes two menus and steps away from the podium, waiting for me to follow.
As we head away from the main dining room, I’m wondering what kind of crappy seat she’s leading us to.
“Cristian!” A female voice sounds from one of the tables and we glance over, seeing a woman raising her hand in a friendly wave.
Cristian stops, his hand landing on my hip to tell me to slow down, too. A zing of electricity shoots through my body from his touch. Bastard probably has static cling.
“Let me just say a quick hello,” he says.
The hostess has stopped in front of a door, her impatience clear as she wonders why we’re still not following her.
Cristian looks over at her. “Is it through there?”
“Yes,” she says.
“Okay, we’ll be right there. I just need to say hi to some friends. We’ll find our way.”
The woman seems unsure at first, but eventually steps away and heads back to the hostess station.
“Sorry about this,” he murmurs, weaving us through the tables toward an eager blonde who’s sliding out from her chair and I now realize looks vaguely familiar. “Chelsea,” he says, kissing her on the cheek and then hugging her to him.
When he says her name, I realize that she’s one of the women I met at the first responder’s bachelor auction who got me into this whole date with Cristian in the first place.
“Whoa, look at you,” Cristian gestures to her pregnant belly.
The other couple at the table, smile and look between the two of them.
A man stands up from behind Chelsea, towering over her. From his protective stance, I’d say he’s the daddy, and since he looks familiar as well, I’m assuming I saw him at the auction, too.
“Yeah.” The woman smiles and looks up at the man behind her.
Damn, it’s Mauro and Maddie 2.0.
“You remember Dean.” Chelsea signals between the two men.
Dean holds his arm out from behind his fiancée’s—based on the sizable diamond on Chelsea’s left hand.
“Good to see you again,” Cristian shakes his hand. “Congratulations to you both on the baby.”
“Thanks, man.” Dean squeezes Chelsea’s shoulder after he lets Cristian’s hand drop.
“We’re a little excited if you couldn’t tell.” Chelsea smiles and her eyes find mine behind Cristian. She gives me a knowing look and then asks Cristian, “Who’s this?”
I appreciate her not mentioning the night of the bachelor auction and so I roll with it, pretending that we’re meeting for the first time.
Cristian steps back, his hand landing on the small of my back. Another electric shock races up my spine and I know I can’t use the static excuse of again.
“This is my date, Vanessa.”
Chelsea holds her stomach and grins at me. “Nice to meet you. I’m sure by now you’ve figured out what a great guy Cristian is.”
I smile politely. I may not want to be with him, but I would never embarrass him in front of people he knows.
“Well, we should get going to our table.” Cristian breaks the uncomfortable silence.
“Of course. I’m sure we’ll pop by the deli at some point to show off our new addition.” She stares back up at her fiancé.
“Hopefully I’ll be there. Besides, I’m sure Mama will keep me updated, too.” Cristian hugs her one last time and shakes Dean’s hand. “Best wishes to you both.”
“Thanks,” Dean’s deep voice says and his hand rests on his fiancée’s hips.
“Nice to meet you, Vanessa.” Chelsea shakes my hand and gives it a quick squeeze before Cristian’s hand lands on the small of my back again, leading me away.
Thank God. How awkward.
I stop in front of the doors that seem to be leading into the back of the restaurant, unsure if
this is where I’m supposed to go. Cristian’s hand leaves my back and I exhale in relief, but a moment later his hand entwines with mine.
I take a deep breath, hoping to calm the nerves that are suddenly present. I don’t want to have this reaction to him, but it seems I can’t help it.
We walk down a small hallway that opens up to a smaller kitchen where a man in a white chef’s coat is busy working. He looks up at the two of us and smiles. “Welcome.” His graying hair peeks out from his black hat while he cuts up a carrot.
Christian smiles and nods, leading us to a small table on the other side.
Oh my God, did he get us the chef’s table?
Cristian holds out my chair and I slide into it wishing I would’ve worn a dress. I mean, ripped jeans for the chef’s table? I feel like an idiot.
A waiter walks in with two bottles of wine, holding them up for us to choose.
“You pick,” Cristian nods to me, laying his napkin in his lap.
I have no idea what a good bottle of wine is. Knowing I prefer the sweetness of white, I pick that one and the waiter opens the bottle and pours it into our glasses.
Over the candlelight, Cristian picks up his glass, holding it out in front of me, in an offering to clink glasses. My trembling hand picks up my own glass, the wine sloshing inside.
“Thanks for having dinner with me,” he says and a smile that makes my heart race and my palms clammy spreads across his face.
I clink my glass with his and take more than a little sip, placing it back down on the linen tablecloth.
“Excuse me. I’m just going to the bathroom.” I slide my chair out and stand. Cristian stands and I place my napkin on the chair.
“I think it’s…”
I leave him while he’s still directing me—I’m on a mission. I head to the bathroom, but instead of locking myself in the stall, I study myself in the mirror.
Why did I think I could do this? Go on a date and not let hope sink in? I’m not looking for someone right now. Especially with trying to get my spring line together. Even if I was, a police officer would not be a wise choice. Not for me.
Still, I can’t deny that he’s attractive. My body practically purrs when he looks at me. But I cannot go there. That’s when the idea comes to me because I need out of this date like a woman from a bad marriage.
I straighten my shirt, making sure my necklace dangles exactly where I want the waiter to be looking when I approach him. This will totally work and I’ll never have to be alone with Cristian Bianco again.
Leaving the restroom, luck must be on my side because the waiter is about to walk through the doors with a basket of bread.
“Excuse me,” I say, arching my back slightly.
Yes, I’m using my assets here. Don’t judge.
“Did you need something, Ma’am.” His eyes dip like I knew they would. He’s way too young not to be enticed by a pair of full-sized Cs.
I dig into my pocket and hand a folded up twenty to him. “Spill a drink on me?”
He chuckles at first, confusion marring his features. “What?”
I glance around to make sure Cristian’s friend isn’t around. “Just spill a drink on me so I have an excuse to leave.”
Now he full-on laughs, the baskets of bread shaking in his hand. “I’ve never…”
“Whatever. Just spill the drink on me. Okay?”
He purses his lips, his eyes scanning the immediate area, tucks the twenty in his front shirt pocket, and nods.
“Thank you.”
I slide by him, going through the doors first. Sitting back down in front of Cristian, my stomach jumps again when he smiles at me.
With any luck, the torture I’m putting myself through will all be over soon.
Chapter Five
Cristian
I didn’t reserve the chef’s table to impress Vanessa. Well…okay, maybe a little bit. As much as I’m pushing the whole idea of a serious relationship with someone to the side, for the time being, I’m not going to drag her to a Hooters and down a few oyster shots to get her in the mood.
We sit at the table eating our salads and I watch as her gaze keeps flickering to the waiter. The fuck? The guy’s okay. Tattoos which I internally roll my eyes at knowing every girl probably loves them. He’s scrawny if you want my opinion. Probably never seen a weight room in his entire life.
I shake my head, sitting back in my chair and bringing the wine glass to my lips.
Now, I’m mentally picking on some guy because I was stupid enough to lay down a wad of cash on a girl I knew would be hard to get. Fuck me. This is exactly why I don’t put myself out there.
Being a police officer, more numbers are tossed my way than Tom Brady. Okay, that’s only because the average woman doesn’t have access to Tom Brady. But I get plenty of action when and if I want it. Some turn into clingers, others just want to say they fucked a cop. None of them have piqued my interest since my ex and that ended years ago. Vanessa’s the first one to make me want to put forth any effort in a long time.
“The wine is good.” She smiles over the rim of her glass. “I really need more water though.” She looks around for the waiter she’s been eating up with her eyes all night. They might as well bring out a hose from the amount of water she’s consumed since she returned from the bathroom.
I nod, raising my hand, catching the attention of the waiter who’s at the chef’s station, chatting about the next course. Yeah, there are seven and we’re only on our second. Five more courses to endure her scoping out some other dude.
The waiter glances back to the chef and the two share a smirk. Even they can see this date for the shit show it is—a man spending an ungodly amount of money on a girl who has zero interest in him.
“Water?” he asks, approaching the table.
Vanessa raises her glass and as they’re exchanging it, the glass slips from her grasp but the waiter catches it.
“Quick hands,” I comment.
Vanessa forces a smile, holding her hand out for the glass, but the waiter places it on the table beside her plate. He leaves and the silence weighs down between us again.
“What do you do for a living?” I ask, forking another pile of lettuce and placing it in my mouth.
“Oh, just…” She stops talking abruptly, looking around. Grabbing her purse that’s hanging on the back of the chair, she pulls out her phone and stares down at the screen for a second. “I’m sorry, all this water…I have to go to the bathroom again.”
I nod, rising from my seat but she rushes out so fast I only get halfway up.
Fuck this. I know when to throw in the towel.
I pull out my phone, checking the Blackhawks score. She takes so fucking long that I stream the game as I finish eating my salad. Screw the gentlemanly act of waiting for her to return. She’s made it clear that she wants nothing from me.
“Would you care for another bottle?” The waiter approaches, picking up the bottle of wine.
We already finished a bottle?
“No. Actually, we might cut this date short. My apologies.”
The guy tucks the wine bottle under his arm and looks over his shoulder toward the door. If this guy asks for permission to ask Vanessa out, I am going to lose my shit.
“Listen, I hate to be the one to tell you this, but your date…”
Fuck me, seriously.
My gaze locks with his and I wait.
“She paid me twenty dollars to pour a drink on her.” He cringes.
“Really?” I ask.
Is it pathetic that a small part of me is happy she hasn’t been eye fucking the waiter all night but actually waiting for him to dump a drink on her?
He bites the inside of his cheek, glancing over his shoulder one more time. “And you spent all this money.” He picks up my salad plate, eyeing Vanessa’s which is still untouched.
An idea comes to my mind. “You know what? We’re going to finish the dinner.”
His eyes widen. “Why?” He immediate
ly shakes his head. “Sorry. As you wish.”
The guy probably thinks I’m an idiot, but truth is I already paid for this meal whether we eat the food or not. I’m going to enjoy it even if she doesn’t. And yes, a small part of me kind of wants to torment her for embarrassing me.
Just then Vanessa steps into the small kitchen, placing her phone face down on the table while she slides into her chair and spreads the napkin on her lap.
“Next course is coming, if you want to finish up your salad,” I say.
She removes her fork from resting on the edge of the plate. “No, I actually didn’t like the salad dressing,” she almost whispers.
“You never tried it.”
Her face reddens, her gaze falling to her plate.
“I’m sorry, Cristian, I just think maybe we should cut this evening short.”
I blow out a breath. “Listen, Vanessa. I get it. You don’t want to date me. Trust me, you’re not breaking my heart. I thought you could tolerate one dinner for the simple fact that your dad has been up my ass about taking you out on the date you won. And I know that yes, Maddie bid on me on your behalf. But I’ve already paid for this night and it wasn’t exactly cheap. So, whatever you’re thinking this is, let’s just enjoy this dinner as acquaintances.”
She leans back in her chair, a slow smile forming on her lips. “You don’t want to date me?”
“Why would I ever want to date my boss’s daughter? I don’t have a death wish.”
She tilts her head from side to side, her eyes lighting up like everything is clicking together. “I thought that since you were calling…”
I bring my drink to my lips and take a sip before responding. “Sorry to disappoint, but I want SWAT and I need your dad to write me up a hell of a reference to get it. If that means following through on a date with you, then that’s what I’ll do.”
I purposely leave out the fact that, yeah, I am attracted to her and if things were different she might be someone I’d want to date. She intrigues me.
“Oh.” Her voice is quiet now.
