Emily's wearing a dark red dress that hugs every delicious curve. It stops mid-thigh, showing legs I want to drag my tongue across. Her hair falls in loose waves past her shoulders, some kind of glittering clip on one side, and she's done something to her eyes that makes the blue more intense.
I was right to splurge this morning. I wouldn't be caught dead wearing a Henley and jeans to dinner with this beauty.
"Hi," she says, fidgeting with her keys. "Is this okay? For dinner? I wasn't sure where we were going, and I didn't want to be underdressed. Or, um,overdressed. I can change if?—"
"It's perfect. You're perfect. God, you look so beautiful."
Emily smiles that heart-stopping smile, the left dimple deeper than the right. "Oh. Thank you. You clean up nicely yourself."
"Oh, thanks." I clear my throat. "Ready?"
She nods, steps into the hallway, and locks her door.
We drive to Valentino's. Yes, really! It’s close enough, and the night is clear. Cold, but not unbearable. She chatters the whole way, nervous energy spilling out in words.
I don't mind. I like her voice … and her jumbled thoughts.
"I can't believe you actually knocked on my door. I was so sure you'd either ignore the card completely or report me to the building manager for harassment. I almost didn't hear the door. I was gonna ignore it and pretend I wasn't home, but then I thought what if it's important, what if there's a fire or something, and everyone except me is accounted for, so I peeked through the peephole and saw you walking away and just panicked and?—"
"I'm glad you opened it."
"Really?"
"Really."
The restaurant is small and intimate. Candles on tables, soft jazz music, smells like garlic and tomato sauce. Valentine's Day crowd, but not overwhelming. I reserved yesterday morning after Emily said ‘yes’, and used some connections to get a table.
We're seated in a corner, two-top. A small vase with a single red rose between us. White tablecloth. Wine glasses. A basket of warm bread. The works.
She's nervous at first, unfolding and refolding her napkin, apologizing for the card, again.
"Em, stop apologizing."
"Sorry. I mean, okay."
"I liked it."
She grabs a piece of bread and tears it in half. "You did?” She cocks her head sideways and looks quizzically at me with a slight squint. “Really?” Like an endearing puppy.
"Yeah. Writing that takes a lot of guts."
"Or a lot of alcohol." She takes a bite and moans, the sound going straight to my cock. Shit. "Um, so, you were in the military, right? I've seen you in uniform a couple times."
I nod. "Army Ranger. Twelve years."
"Wow. That's ... a long time. Did you just get out?"
"Four months ago. I'm taking a break before starting with a security firm."
"That's good. The break, I mean. You've earned it, I'm sure."
I shrug and don't elaborate on the dark parts. My therapist actually suggested the break because I was showing signs of burnout. But Emily doesn't need to know that right now.
These are not things you say on a first date … at least not if you’re aiming for a repeat.
"What about you? The flower shop. ‘Not Dead Yet’, right? Name sounds a bit macabre."
Her face lights up, and she laughs. A full laugh. “You know where I work?"
