by Aly Martinez
Miraculously, I wasn’t even late as I walked into the restaurant. Well, assuming the fifteen-minute grace period at my doctor’s office applied to dates as well. The restaurant was predictably empty for three p.m., but there was only one man who truly mattered and he was leaning against the wall near the hostess stand. When his gaze locked on mine, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.
I had no idea what he’d been doing since I’d last seen him a few hours earlier, but he’d changed clothes at some point. His jeans were darker and tapered at the ankle, and his untucked button-down was almost nautical with a fine blue-and-white stripe. But once again, Bowen had employed the male species secret weapon and rolled his sleeves up his forearms.
A slow, sexy grin curled his lips as he shoved off the wall and strolled my way. “There she is.” He leaned in for a half hug and pressed a gentle kiss to my cheek.
I far preferred the familiarity of the one he’d placed on my mouth back at my open house, but I would never complain about Bowen’s lips touching any part of my body. He was so close that a new cologne he hadn’t worn before filled my senses.
“Mmm,” I moaned. “You smell amazing.”
“Yeah?” he asked, eyeing me closely.
“Wait. Is that…” I drew in a deep inhale, scanning my mind to identify the fragrance.
He stared down at me expectantly, his eyes twinkling with something I couldn’t quite pinpoint.
“Oh, oh, wait. Is it Hugo Boss?”
His eyebrows shot up. “Versace, but not a bad guess.”
“Damn. I’m usually good with colognes. I buy some for the guys every year at Christmas. Aaron tries to overcompensate with brute and woodsy scents when everyone knows he needs the more clean, understated-masculinity fragrances. Mark, on the other hand, has been wearing the same sports spray since high school. Even then, it was awful. I’ll never have nieces and nephews if I don’t get those two married off soon.”
Resting his hand on the small of my back, he guided me to the hostess stand. “I have two nephews you can borrow. The seven-year-old is a ventriloquist who never leaves home without his dummy, and his nine-year-old brother insists on breaking at least one limb every summer. So that’s fun.”
He didn’t say anything to the hostess. Instinctively, she grabbed two menus and guided us to a small table in the back. Once we were seated and drink orders had been taken—New Zealand Sav Blanc for me, whiskey neat for him—we jumped right back into conversation, never missing a step.
“A ventriloquist? How cool is that?”
Bowen smiled, his chest puffing with pride. “It’s actually really fun to watch. He’s super talented too. My sister is hell-bent on making the boys play every sport under the sun, but I’ve never seen Preston happier than when he got a vintage Charlie Chaplin dummy for his birthday.”
“Stop it. There’s no way a seven-year-old knows Charlie Chaplin?”
He nodded enthusiastically. “Did I mention he also listens to smooth jazz and drinks apple juice from a chipped teacup? He’s a character. That’s for sure.”
Warmth filled my chest. It was nice to see another side of Bowen. I didn’t have a big family, but while we had been working on my dad’s taxes, I’d filled his ears with stories of growing up at The Wave and meeting Aaron and Mark. He’d listened but hadn’t offered up much about his own life that night. So, as our drinks were delivered, I hurried to keep him talking.
“Okay, so we have Preston, and what is nine-year-old Harry Houdini’s name?”
“Simon.” He rolled his eyes. “Simon Reginald Harrington the Third.”
“Oh, wow. That’s…” Pretentious. I clinked my glass of wine with his whiskey and tipped it back to avoid finishing the thought.
He laughed. “Funny enough, my mother had a similar reaction when she heard it for the first time too.”
I got comfy in my seat and fiddled with the stem on my glass, prying for every last detail he’d give me. “And your parents. Are they still together?”
“Disgustingly so,” he replied, shaking his gorgeous head.
“And just one sister? Older? Younger?”
“Older. I have a younger brother too.”
I nodded and kept going, filing everything away under Basics of Bowen 101. “Originally from Atlanta?”
“Born and raised.”
“College?”
“Georgia.”
“Yes!” I lifted my hand and high-fived him across the linen-covered table. “Go Dawgs.”
Rich laughter escaped his throat as he caught my hand. Intertwining our fingers, he rested them on the table. “I told you this wasn’t speed dating, right?”
Appreciating how our fingers looked linked together, I conceded. “Yeah. I know. I just like learning about you. Usually, I’m the talker.”
“I’ve noticed, but guess what?”
“What?”
“I enjoy listening to you talk.” He looked down at our hands and smiled almost…shyly? Yet another facet of the mystery that was Bowen Michaels.
I stroked his thumb with my own, thinking about how much things had changed—improved tenfold—between us. “You’re different.”
His head popped up, a mixture of surprise and curiosity crinkling his forehead. “How so?”
“I don’t know. When I met you, you were so distant and hollow. I wasn’t completely sure you possessed the facial muscles to smile. But now”—I pointed to his mouth—“it seems like you’ve mastered the task pretty well.”
“It’s not that I didn’t know how to smile. It’s just that it’s been a long time since I had a reason to.”
Heat flooded my cheeks and I attempted to hide it by taking another sip of my wine. “That was smooth, Mr. Michaels.”
He chuckled. “The fellow nerds will be thrilled to hear it.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Were you talking about me in the group text again?”
“Maybe.”
“Good. Keep it up.”
I loved the back-and-forth with him. The fact that he could laugh at himself was a huge turn-on. Even more so than V-neck-casual Bowen. What I loved most was, despite the way things had started, there was an effortless comfort between us that I’d never felt with a man—at least not romantically speaking, and sure as hell not on a first official date.
Just when I thought he couldn’t get any better, the waitress arrived to take our dinner order, but I hadn’t even picked up the menu. Luckily, I didn’t have to.
Bowen ordered a boat.
No, seriously. A literal boat of sushi intended for four people, complete with steamed dumplings, edamame, tempura veggies, and enough sushi to feed a small army—or fleet, rather. It was a first date and I was now practically required to stuff my face because everyone knew leftover sushi didn’t keep.
He looked over at me. “Anything you’d like to add?”
It was a little too soon to ask for his hand in marriage, so instead, I looked at the waitress. “Is the tempura cooked in vegetable oil or peanut oil?”
“Uhhhh…” she drawled.
Robust laughter bubbled from Bowen’s throat. “Remi, relax. I’ve eaten here before.”
“Oh, okay.” Releasing his hand, I passed my unread menu to the waitress. “Can’t be too safe.”
“You are so right,” he replied, thoroughly amused.
I liked how he was as entertained by me as I was by him.
Swirling my wine glass, I asked, “Where are you taking me this fine afternoon?”
“After the reaction I got from gifting you Meredith earlier, I’ll be staying on theme with a trip to the botanical gardens.”
“Shut up. Seriously?”
He nodded. “You’ve probably been a million times.”
“Actually, I’ve never been. I’ve always wanted to though. Thirty acres of outdoor gardens, Bowen. It’ll make Peachtree Plants look like an herb garden. Your aesthetically pleasing rear could be in real danger.”
He shrugged. “As long as you’re willing to
watch my six, I should be fine.”
“Oh, I’ll definitely watch your six, seven, eight, and nine. For a trip to the botanical gardens, I might even pull a Sharon and pinch your six too.”
“Money well spent.” He winked. “Wait a minute. Let me get this straight. You own a plant that cost more than your rent, but you’ve never made it across town to the holy land?”
“The whole horticulture obsession is kinda new. I didn’t get into plants until—” Shit. I shifted awkwardly in my chair. “So a boat of sushi, huh? How hungry are you?”
“Since the plane crash?” he said, filling in the blinking, neon blank.
I lifted my hand in surrender. “Door shut. Still locked.” I tossed a ball of air over my shoulder. “Threw away the key.”
His lips thinned. “It happened, Remi. Just because I’m not ready to talk about it doesn’t mean you have to avoid it completely. It’s bound to come up from time to time.”
Swallowing hard, I offered him a tight smile. “I know. With everything you’ve been through… I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable or anything.”
He leaned forward and once again caught my hand. “The only thing that’s going to make me uncomfortable is you tiptoeing around me, giving me the highlights of you, when I want the whole damn experience. So let’s try this again. You got into plants after the plane crash, right?” He circled his free hand in the air, signaling for me to continue.
I crinkled my nose. I could lie and take the easy way out, sparing us both, but I didn’t want to do that with him. The plane crash had changed my entire life. It was a massive part of who I was. He probably wasn’t ready for the full experience the way he claimed, but I could gently wean him in.
“I was in the hospital for a while. Tons of people—some I didn’t even know—flooded my room with flowers. As sweet as it was, I hated them. I was stuck in that hospital bed, day after day, forced to watch them wither away. After all the lives that were lost, I couldn’t stand dealing with more death.” I paused to get a read on him. One of those souls had worn his ring and owned his heart. I didn’t know her name or what she’d looked like, but if this man loved her, she must have been incredible.
Confident from the earnest way he was listening, totally focused, I continued. “It was the opposite with the potted plants though. A little water every day and they thrived. In the most sterile setting imaginable, I watched them grow and flourish. Everything that I’d felt was impossible back then. When I was finally discharged from the hospital, Mark and Aaron had to make three different trips down to the car to carry all of them. They begged me to donate some, but by then, they were my babies.” I gave his hand a squeeze. “You did good with Meredith today. In my opinion, clipped flowers are overrated. There’s nothing worse than watching something so beautiful wither into nothingness.”
Maybe I’d gotten ahead of myself, because his face grew dark. The storm brewing within him when we’d met returned to his eyes. Even from the outside, the destruction being caused by that hurricane was catastrophic. But still, he stared at me. His gaze searched my face as if I held the answers to every question he’d never spoken. It made me a terrible person, but my stomach dipped at the thought that I had even one answer for him.
Never breaking his intense attention from me, he brought our joined hands to his lips and peppered kisses over the back. “You have no idea how right you are about that.”
On his next exhale, the clouds in his eyes faded. “Right, so… A boat of sushi. Hope you brought your appetite.”
I grinned across the table at him, thankful the bleak moment had passed. “Dibs on the sashimi.”
Like the morning sun coming over the horizon, his face lit again, and just like that, Bowen came back to me.
“You better be quick with the chopsticks then, Ms. Grey.”
The rest of dinner was easy and breezy, the way a first date should be. We ate a lot. Laughed even more. Teased each other relentlessly. It was by far the best date of my life, and the best part was it wasn’t even over yet.
When we finally finished all we could and he paid the check, I rode with Bowen to Atlanta’s Botanical Garden, where we spent the rest of the afternoon strolling hand in hand through a horticultural heaven. He knew almost nothing about plants, and I was almost positive he didn’t care, either. But I never would have known based on the smile on his face as he listened to me prattle on for hours.
I didn’t want the night to end. Though the moan-inducing goodbye kiss as he dropped me off at my car softened the blow. He made me promise to text him as soon as I was home, but when I pulled into my driveway, there were already a half dozen notifications on my screen.
Bowen: So, I know tomorrow is Sunday and all, but would you want to come over and watch the baseball game with a nerd??
Bowen: The Braves are away, but I could fire up the grill.
Bowen: Or we could order in again and skip the game completely.
Bowen: Movie maybe? Here or a theater?
Bowen: Yeah, we could definitely go out again if you’re more comfortable with that than coming to my place.
Bowen: And please…when you get home and read these, can we not discuss how I just sent you four thousand consecutive texts to ask you out on another date?
I giggled as I started typing.
Me: First of all, I love baseball. But are you grilling burgers or brats?
Bowen: After I saw the way you devoured sushi tonight, we’re probably gonna need both.
I laughed again, my cheeks strained from a day full of it.
Me: Then yes. I would love to come over and watch the game tomorrow night. Sadly, there is no way I can ignore, nor forget, your text-a-thon. I think you like me, Mr. Michaels.
Bowen: All calculations on my end seem to add up that way. I’ve been going over the stats since I watched you drive off. Which, for the record, was my least favorite part of the evening.
Me: Well, statistically speaking, I can assure you the rest of the date put all your numbers in the red.
Bowen: What? Red isn’t good.
Me: Oh, well, I guess I’ll leave the mathing to you. Regardless, please report back to the nerds that our feelings are mutual. Also…I just got home.
Bowen: Excellent news on both fronts.
Me: Thanks again for an amazing day. Sweet dreams.
Bowen: I’m not sure how sweet they’ll be, but they will all be of you.
Heat rushed through my body, nipples to clit.
Oh. My. Gawd.
This man. Mr. Tall, Dark, and Nice Ass. The Man of Mystery. He was becoming Mr. Sweep Me Off My Feet.
Bowen
“Are you avoiding me?” my pain-in-the-ass sister asked across the line.
After wedging my phone between my ear and my shoulder, I pulled my sheets out of the dryer, answering, “Let me get this straight. You have been riding my ass for the better part of the last six months to get a life and today I call you to tell you I’m having a friend over for dinner and your conclusion is that I’m avoiding you?”
She scoffed. “Fine. Then tell me about this alleged friend. Are they imaginary? Go by the name Clyde or Sugar? Or is this more of a Calvin and Hobbs situation?”
I walked to my bedroom, dropped the sheets onto the chair in the corner, and then got busy with the stretch-and-smooth routine to make up the bed. “First, you’re an ass. Second, it’s actually a client.” No lies detected.
“A client you’d like to keep? Because—no offense—Bowen, I’ve had your cooking.”
I glared at the wall, hoping she’d somehow feel it at her house twenty minutes away. There was only one way to get her off my ass. It would take exactly one pronoun to ensure I had my house all to myself, completely uninterrupted, for a solid twenty-four hours. The problem was, on the twenty-fifth hour, all hell would break loose, and the entire Michaels family would descend upon me like the first wave of the zombie apocalypse, starved for details rather than brains. Though, if I wanted to guarantee I didn’t get any
surprise visitors while Remi was over, I had to give her something.
“Oh, no offense taken, and thanks for your vote of confidence, but I’m sure she will love my burgers.”
The line fell silent just as I’d assumed.
“Oh my God,” Cassidy breathed. “You’re having a woman over? For dinner?”
I folded the top sheet back and dragged the midnight-blue comforter up the bed. “Yeah. So call off your dogs. I don’t need Tyson or Mom or Dad stopping in to check on me tonight—or, hell, at all anymore. In fact, spread the word. Everyone should return their keys and give me some privacy in my own damn house again.”
“Wait. Wait. Wait. Is this like…a date-date?”
“I hope so. Otherwise it’s going to be real awkward when I try to kiss her.”
“Oh my God!” she shouted at a decibel I feared would wake the dogs.
When the pillows were neatly stacked on the bed, I replied, “Okay. That’s enough. God himself has now heard about my date. Give the man a break.”
“Spill it. What’s her name? What’s she do? How did you meet?”
“See, this is exactly what we are not going to do right now. I only told you about it because I need all of you to give me some space to explore things with her. Some well-deserved privacy. Then—if and when the time comes—I’ll tell you guys everything, but please just lay off and let me do this on my own.”
She let out a groan of frustration. Relinquishing control was not Cassidy’s strong suit. “Fine. Then at least tell me how serious it is.”
Really fucking serious.
Life-changing serious.
Terrifyingly serious.
“It’s all very new, Cass,” I answered. “Give me a little time to figure it out. That’s all I’m asking for.”
