Jackson
I DON’T KNOW WHY JERICHO’S demeanor changed when he realized who Millie was, but I didn’t like it one bit.
“Hey, brother, I’m not sure what just happened, but your tone, and your face, are kinda pissing me off,” I warned, low enough so his employees couldn’t hear me, but so that he definitely could.
Jericho’s eyes shot to mine and he grimaced, then said sheepishly, “Sorry, man.” Then, he turned his attention back to Millie took her hand back in his. “I apologize, Millie, it’s very nice to meet you. Jackson is one of my great friends and I trust his judgement. I’m sorry for being rude.”
Millie looked at him uncertainly, then asked softly, “You don’t even know me, so why . . . ?”
Jericho looked over our heads, toward Three Sisters Catering.
“I know your sister, and let’s just say, when things ended, they didn’t end well. But, that has nothing to do with you, and I’m sorry for acting like an ass all this time. I’m happy to have you and Jackson and would love to take care of your dinner tonight.”
“That won’t be necessary,” I replied, because, seriously, my first dinner date with Millie wasn’t going to be on the house. I didn’t use my friends that way, and I didn’t want her to think I did. Plus, there was something about paying for her meal that made me feel good, like I was taking care of her . . . If that made me old-fashioned, so be it.
“My sister?” Millie asked, still stuck on Jericho’s explanation.
“She should tell it,” Jericho said with a wave of his hand, and I knew he was done talking about it. He turned and held his hand out toward the dining room. “I have your table ready, if you’ll follow me.”
I shot a smile at the hostess as we passed, taking Millie’s hand as we followed Jericho through the dining room, to a rounded booth in the back corner. I’d called ahead and told Jericho I was bringing a date. Since he was my friend, and happy that I was finally moving on from Julie, Jericho promised a romantic evening.
I let Millie’s hand go so that we could both slide in, meeting each other in the middle on the other side. I smiled, liking that she chose to sit next to me, rather than across, although the brush of her thigh against mine might make focusing on my meal difficult.
“Ky will be your server tonight, but don’t hesitate to call if you need anything,” Jericho told us, then gave us a slight nod before walking off toward the kitchen.
“That was weird,” Millie muttered as she watched Jericho push through the swinging door.
“Yeah, I’ve never seen him act like that; he’s usually really easy going. Do you know what it’s about?”
Millie shook her head, then turned it toward me.
“No, I mean, I thought maybe he didn’t like us moving in and being competition, even though we really aren’t, or that he was just a grumpy guy.”
“He’s not.”
“Strange . . . And, now, I’m dying to know if he was talking about Tasha or Dru, and why whoever it is never said anything.” Millie shook her head again, then smiled sweetly up at me. “Enough about them, that’s a puzzle to figure out later. How was the rest of your week?”
“Great, the kids are diving in to Pride and Prejudice, which always brings about the best discussions.”
“Oh, I love Pride and Prejudice,” she gushed, her face taking on that dreamy quality that always came up when women thought of Darcy. “And, Kayla, how’s she doing?”
“It’s nice of you to ask,” I said, wondering if I should tell her about Kayla’s behavior earlier, or allow us the opportunity to get to know each other better, before weighing her down with my parenting woes. I decided on the latter and simply said, “She always loves spending time with her grandparents.”
“Good,” she said as she picked up the menu and opened it. “So, I’ve never been here, but I’ve heard great things. Is there anything you’d recommend?”
“Well, they make a mean martini, you can’t go wrong with the steaks, and the dessert . . .” I put my fingertips up to my lips and kissed them. “Magnifique.”
I noticed her cheeks get red, and couldn’t help but be charmed when I learned why.
“Actually, I thought I’d have you back to my place for dessert. I made a Lemon Crème Brule that I think you’ll enjoy.”
My heart hammered in my chest at the thought of going back to her place, first with excitement, then with nerves.
Is she expecting more than dessert after dinner? Are we ready for that? Am I?
Not only had I never kissed anyone other than Julie, I’d never been with anyone other than her, and it had been well over a year since we’d had sex . . . since I’d had sex. I was a little rusty, and had never felt more inexperienced than I did in that moment just thinking about being alone with Millie in her apartment.
It’s only the first date, I assured myself. There was no way Millie was thinking about taking things that far.
But when I looked at her pretty pink cheeks, and the way her lips were slightly parted as she watched my reaction play over my face, I wondered if I was not only being old-fashioned, but naïve.
“It’s just dessert,” Millie assured me softly, placing her soft, warm hand on my thigh in what she meant to be a reassuring gesture, but made me jump in me seat. She pulled her hand away quickly, as if she’d been burned and muttered, “Sorry.”
I immediately felt guilty and reached for her hand, putting it back on my leg.
“No, I’m sorry, I’m overreacting and all you’re doing is being sweet. I got nervous,” I admitted, squeezing her hand slightly in mine. “I freaked out at the thought of what you might be expecting at the end of this date, which is unfair to you. As I’ve said, I’m out of practice with all of this stuff, and it’s making me a bit of the mess.”
“Hey,” she said, leaning in to bump my arm with her shoulder. “I just thought it would be nice to have some dessert, with wine . . . or coffee, at my place so that we could have some privacy and get to know each other better. That’s it.” Her face lit up as she smiled a bit wickedly, then added, “I won’t jump your bones, promise.”
I chuckled, embarrassed, and had no control over my body’s reaction to Millie’s words. As my body tightened and a yearning filled me, I wondered whether I actually wanted to her keep that promise, or not.