Daisy checks the clock beside the bed. “Shall we go? You said the reservation was at six, right?”
“Yes. I just need to put shoes on.”
“Me too.” Her eyes follow Sloan as she crosses the room, bending over to slide her heels on. She bites her lip as her gaze roams the curve of her ass, noting how her dress hugs it so well.
Daisy opens the door, letting Sloan out first, and does her best not to notice the sway of her hips as she walks ahead.
“Welcome to Clover Restaurant,” the host says. The host’s dark red lips are plump, and the color is perfect next to her pale skin, clearly indicating she’s a vampire. “Do you have a reservation?”
“Yes, I think it will be under Daisy Hale.”
The host looks down at her tablet and taps the screen several times before answering. “Ah, yes. We have you at one of our best tables. Right this way, please,” she says, stepping away from the podium and leading them to a secluded corner of the restaurant. “Here you are.”
“Thank you,” Sloan responds before pulling out the chair so Daisy can sit first and then moves to her side, where the host does the same for her.
The restaurant is relatively dark, allowing the scattered candles on the tables to create a romantic atmosphere. The exposed brick and wood beams add an additional warmth to the space, and their secluded space means this meal has suddenly become more intimate than she expected. Exactly what she wants: an intimate meal with Sloan. She doesn’t know what she did to the universe to make her suffer like this, but she needs to find out so she can rectify the situation.
The host goes through the usual rundown of wines and specials before leaving them in silence. Daisy looks around the restaurant and wishes for someone to take her place. She adjusts her bra strap under her sweater as she notes the flickering candle on the table and the brush of Sloan’s knee against hers. She shifts back slightly, trying to put space between them and ignore the sudden heat spreading outward to her toes from the brief contact.
Sloan looks down at the table and runs her slender fingers along the edge of her napkin, which lies folded next to her plate. Daisy’s eyes follow the gesture, a sudden longing to feel those fingers stroking her. She looks up to the ceiling, wishing for Hecate to strike her down here and now.
She picks up her napkin and places it on her lap. Then she takes it off and lays it on the table. She picks up the wine menu, admitting to herself that she’s definitely going to need some to get through this.
The host has been gone for what feels like an eternity, and this silence between them is reaching an unbearable limit, but the motion of Sloan’s fingers transfixes Daisy. Try as she might, she can’t stop watching them. Wondering. Her nerves are on edge as her mind wanders to the last time she felt this much unease. It was on her first date with Stella. Fucking Hades. She looks around again, noting how truly intimate their table is and— goddess, why does this feel like a date? Does she think it’s a date?
Say something.
Anything.
Break the tension.
“So, tell me about yourself,” Sloan says.
Daisy blinks.
“What?” Sloan asks, a small smile breaking across her perfect features, lighting up her beautiful brown eyes.
“‘So, tell me about yourself.’ That’s your opener?”
“What else am I supposed to say? ‘Please tell me about your childhood trauma’?” Sloan replies.
Daisy blinks again. “There are definitely better openers than that.”
“What would you have said?”
“I don’t know. I couldn’t think of anything.”
Sloan laughs. Genuine. Silky. The sound surprises Daisy, like a ray of hope in a drought, full of promise and warmth. She holds her breath for a moment, not wanting to ruin the air surrounding them. Daisy shakes her head, attempting to rid herself of the overwhelming sense of want blossoming inside her. Wanting to hear it again. Wanting to be the one to make her laugh again.
“You okay?” Sloan asks.
Daisy clears her throat. “Yes,” she squeaks. She swallows. “Yes, I’m fine. We should probably decide on what we want to order.”
Sloan’s smile falters. “You’re probably right. Did you want to split an appetizer?”
“Sure.”
“Great.”
