“Uh, yeah.” My eyes narrow, trying to make out the figure. I’m sure I’m imagining things, because there’s no way that’s Brad. He doesn’t even own a suit. Shaking my head, I gaze up at Ben, giving him an apologetic grin. “Sorry. Just thought I saw someone I hadn’t seen in a while. But I was mistaken.”
He gives me that endearing smile that makes my toes squirm inmy overpriced heels before closing the door behind me. Ben runs to his side of the vehicle and starts up his truck. I hadn’t paid much attention on the way here. It’s quite nice. But I’ve known men to overspend on their vehicles. So I try not to get caught up in it. I mean, so long as he has a good job and didn’t steal it from his ex, who am I to judge?
We drive to the restaurant cloaked in uncomfortable silence, each stealing not-so-subtle glimpses of the other. I’d be worried by the awkward silence if it weren’t for his sweet smile and slight red hue to his cheeks above that scrumptious five o’clock shadow. I consider making small talk, but then abruptly remember he’s driving to an interview. He’s probably running through bullet points in his head. The last thing I want to do is make that worse.
As we pull into the parking lot, I lean forward, attempting to take in the restaurant, only to find an older hotel.Odd. Seems like he could’ve met for dinner somewhere a lot more convenient than this broken-down old place.
Before I have time to give it any further thought, Ben is at my door, holding his hand out for mine. Taking it, I look up at him. “Thank you.” He merely grins down at me. Jeez. He hasn’t said a peep since we left the shop. Is he wishing he’d come alone after all? Or has the sight of this place rattled his cage? “You’ve got this, Ben.”
He straightens awkwardly, hesitates as if he’s going to say something, then places his hand on my lower back once more, leading me toward the entrance. I grimace. Man, I hope he can shake off these nerves before meeting his potential boss.
Walking into the lobby of the hotel, Ben turns left and heads down a hallway as if he’s been here before. The carpet is worn, and the place smells a bit musty. I hope the food is better than the atmosphere.
We approach the hostess stand, and while we wait for someone to assist us, my eyes sweep the dimly lit space. It’s virtually empty. The décor is dated, but the view from the floor to ceiling windows is beautiful. The sun is just starting to descend, pink and purple hues competing for attention as they stretch across the sky. There are boatsof various sizes docked in assigned slips along the water’s edge. It feels as if we’re a world away from Hanover.
“Hi, we’re supposed to be meeting Milton Beaumont for dinner. I’m afraid we’re running a bit late.” I hadn’t even noticed the hostess approach, lost in the view.
Suddenly, a heavy-set man with ruddy skin and a really awful comb-over arrives at our side. “Ben?”
“Mr. Beaumont?”
“Yes, yes. I’m so glad you could make it. And you were able to bring the little lady.”
Ben clears his throat suddenly seeming quite nervous. The overconfident charismatic man from earlier has left the building. This job must be really important. “Yes. Her plans changed at the last minute. This is Grace.”
The jovial gentleman reaches out for my hand, wearing a huge toothy grin.
“Hello.”
“Why hello, my dear. It’s so nice to meet Ben’s fiancée.”
I’m sorry, what?
10
GRACE
What.The. Hell?
I turn toward Ben in what feels like slow motion. Yet before I can even gather my thoughts to ask him what on earth he’s up to, I catch the pleading look in his eyes. It’s akin to Oliver Twist begging for another dollop of gruel.
Hells bells. I’m ordering all the things. Appetizersanddessert.Peering back down at my dress, I run my fingertips over the luxurious fabric.And I’m keeping this dress, dang it.
Deciding I should simply go along with his ruse in exchange for the garment and a nice meal, I chew on the inside of my cheek and decide to watch this night unfold like an innocent bystander.
Milton leads us to a table and holds out my chair. “Order whatever you’d like,” he says, raising a menu in our direction before taking his seat across from us.
“Oh. I plan on it,” I mutter.Take that, Ben.
A server brings water and a basket of fresh bread, and my stomach growls. Jeez, how embarrassing. My gaze ping pongs between my tablemates, praying neither of them heard it. The two of them appear to be deep in conversation about the history of the hotel. Ah. Maybe Milton is hiring a construction crew to update this dilapidated old place. I peer longingly at the basket of fresh-baked goodness calling to me and wonder how long I must wait before helping myself. I mean, they could be doing this interview for a while.
My eyes spring wide as the basket begins moving toward me. I cautiously lean back in my chair and attempt to examine the table.Holy crow, is there a small critter under there?I know this place looks old, but?—
Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Ben pulling his arm back tohis side, and realize he’s the one who slid the basket closer, encouraging me to help myself. His gaze never breaks from Milton’s.
Good Lord, Grace. What is wrong with you?
I make quick work of buttering my bread and have to suppress a moan as the scrumptious warm food melts in my mouth. I mean, it’s not the best thing I’ve ever had. But it’s certainly the best thing I’ve had in a long time.
