“They do like blondes down there.”
Somewhere I found the confidence to snatch her hand in mine and squeeze it. I winked as I joked and she laughed, her giggle filling the air all around us. I wanted to reach out and grab it, shove it in my pocket, and save it for a bad day.
“You’re funny, Layton G.”
“Glad you think so, Charli. Come on.”
I led her toward the exit and out into the crisp nighttime air, handed the valet my ticket, and turned toward my ... date? Friend? Acquaintance?
“Cold?” I asked.
She was running her hands up and down her arms. I watched tiny goose bumps pop out on her creamy skin like it was an Oscar-winning movie.
“Here.” I shrugged off my jacket and wrapped it over her shoulders. It engulfed her in a way that was almost comical.
“I thought it would be warmer,” she admitted, pulling the jacket tighter around her. “Thanks.”
My car drove up, and the valet jumped out of the driver’s side and opened the passenger door for Charli. Of course, he did.
She handed me my jacket and slid into the black leather seat of my BMW, the skirt of her dress riding up her leg. I tucked my tongue back into my mouth for the second time this evening.
“Drive safely,” the valet called out, never taking his eyes off my passenger.
I turned the key and looked toward Charli, noting the small wisps of her blond hair framing her face. “Ready?”
She nodded, a slight smile settling on her lips as she set her hands in her lap and looked toward the city in front of us.
Pulling out into traffic, I hit the button on the steering wheel to turn on the stereo. Ed Sheeran flooded the car. Hey, I worked in music ... I knew which tunes got the ladies comfortable.
“Truth is, I’ve never been to this place but I’ve wanted to go,” I said, starting to ramble again. What I didn’t mention was that afterward, I’d probably hit up the In-and-Out so I wouldn’t go to bed hungry.
“I’m excited to eat anywhere. I had to starve myself all day to fit in this dress—” She stopped short and covered her mouth with her hand.
Me too, except it was a tux and not a dress,I wanted to admit, but I didn’t.
“Sorry,” she said with an embarrassed grin. “That was TMI, but it’s true.”
“Well, they keep mentioning Zao’s in the LA mag, and it even had a quick write-up in Esquire last month. It’s not far, which is also a bonus because everything out here is a pain in the ass.”
“Where do you live? Near here?”
“I’m over in Santa Monica, maybe twenty, thirty minutes with light traffic. It’s a pretty cool neighborhood, hip, whatever. I bought a run-down bungalow on a jumbo mortgage when I started my biz. It was a bit of a gamble, but I needed the space for my own studio, and it was cheaper than renting one. So I put one in, and it’s paid off. And you? Back east?”
“I live in the Meatpacking District. An old warehouse converted into condos. I live by myself ... I actually don’t do well with roommates.”
“Really?”
“I’m a bit intolerant of others when I’m working or getting ready for a run. I don’t know; I just like my own space.” She ran a finger behind her ear, securing her hair behind it, and turned her gaze out the passenger window.
“I get it. Actually, I don’t do that well living with others either. In college after the first year, I opted for a single.”
She smiled again; I could see the corner of her mouth raise in profile, and it was brilliant. “I was always the odd one left out in college because I was so far ahead, but younger without an ID. Maybe that’s why I never really got into roommates. I was always left behind. Until I met Janie. She’s my closest friend back home.”
“I still hang with a few of my buddies from school. We were all kind of a bit off-beat—” I said, then stopped short as anxiety got the better of me. “I don’t know why I’m saying all this shit. I’m a bit nervous, to be honest.”
“Why?”
“It’s not every night I have a stunning, intelligent woman in my car. Let alone one who looks as good as you do in that dress.”
