Yeah, real sweet. He didn’t want to be seen in public with me, and in private he commanded my body and my heart like no one else. A real sweetie. I removed the crab wontons from the oven and began plating them, thankful for the distraction.
I avoided the chance to mingle by staying in the kitchen. I liked this role. It allowed Emmy to spend time with her guests while I kept the snacks refilled and cleared away empty plates, all while sipping my wine in peace and watching Braydon discuss sports, politics, and modeling with various guests throughout the room. I had the perfect vantage point. God, his butt was cute in those jeans. Refilling my own wineglass yet again, I settled onto a barstool at the kitchen island. I’d probably been a little too liberal with my own wine consumption, but what the hell. I was at the housewarming party for two of my married, very in-love friends and was face-to-face with my ex-fuck friend. Yay, me.
Suddenly realizing Braydon was standing just two feet away, looking concerned, I lowered the glass from my lips. I wasn’t sure when he’d entered the kitchen or how long he’d been staring at me, but he stepped closer and brought a hand to my jaw. He dragged his thumb across my damp lower lip, wiping away a trace of red wine. “You’re frowning.”
I swallowed. Hard. Then forced a smile.
“Why are you sad?” he asked.
“I’m fine, Braydon. Really.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Kitten . . .” His tone was cocksure and imploring. I pulled in a shuddering breath and he dropped his hand, lacing his fingers behind his head. “I thought about what you said, and I realized I wasn’t being fair to you.”
“Go on.” My heart kicked up a steady thumping rhythm.
“I told you when we agreed to this arrangement that I’d take care of you. And I failed at that. I didn’t take care of all your needs as I should have.”
“What are you saying?”
“You needed more,” he said simply.
“Yes, I did,” I murmured.
“I’ve thought about it, and I don’t want to lose what we had, so . . .” He hesitated briefly. “I’m going to try and give you a bit more.”
“What do you mean?” Either I’d consumed far too much wine or he was speaking in code.
“I’m asking you out.”
“Out?”
“Yes, out. Will you join me for dinner tomorrow night?”
“Like at a restaurant? In public?”
“That’s the plan.”
I’d done what Emmy had said, put distance between us, let him miss me, and apparently it had worked. I wanted to jump up and down and do some air-humping right there in the kitchen, but instead I remained composed. “Um, sure. Why not?”
He chuckled at me. “Cool.”
Wow. This was quite the one-eighty. My stomach flipped as I realized what this meant. I wasn’t alone in my feelings for him. He wanted me back. Maybe he would come around after all, open himself up to me like I wanted. Remembering Emmy’s advice, I took a deep breath, preparing myself to turn him down, even though I wanted to go running straight back into his arms. “Oh, actually, I would love to but I’m getting together with Emmy. I’m free on Sunday.”
“Sunday’s perfect. I’ll pick you up at seven.”
“Okay. And Braydon?”
“Yeah.”
“Thanks.”
“See you soon, kitten.”
Emmy burst through the kitchen door just as Braydon was returning to the party. “Tell me everything,” she demanded, hopping up and down.
I blew out a sigh. Was he asking me out because he genuinely wanted to date me, or because he’d promised me that all my needs would be met when I’d agreed to his arrangement? I would need Emmy to help me try and decipher the latest in my ongoing saga with Braydon Kincaid. “We’re going on a date.”
She squealed and pulled me in for a hug.
• • •
The night of our date arrived and Braydon called to warn me when he was coming over to my place. I met him downstairs, where he had a cab waiting. He gave me a warm hug, pressing his body to mine, and I almost collapsed at his intoxicating scent and firm body, which was rigid in all the right places. We slipped into the backseat of the cab, the mood between us giddy. We were really doing it—going out on a proper date. The tone of our relationship felt totally different. Braydon’s wide smile and roaming hands had me giggling as we rode to the restaurant.
After he paid the driver, he helped me from the car and led me inside a dimly lit Italian restaurant with exposed brick walls, flickering candles, and the scent of garlic in the air. My stomach grumbled loudly as the hostess seated us at the booth in the front, overlooking the bustling sidewalk and busy street. The fading sunlight warmed the mahogany table and cast everything in a pretty, romantic glow. I liked being out with Braydon. I couldn’t help but notice people casting glances our direction. We looked cute together. He smartly dressed in a button-down navy shirt and gray slacks; me in my slim-fit black ankle pants, flats, and a red sweater with chunky gold jewelry.