“Says the man who works twenty-four seven, three sixty-five,” I call as he walks toward the stairs.
The bar upstairs was once primarily The Sinners clubhouse, but has now been mostly converted into rooms for Rosie’s Refuge, her organization that gives women a safe space to stay after experiencing assault. Now, Cain keeps an office upstairs and often retreats to it for both club business and to help with Rosie’s Refuge.
“The club can’t run itself,” he yells over his shoulder as he climbs the stairs. “You know that.”
Shaking my head, I get back to the box of alcohol that definitely won’t put itself away, and stretch every last possible minute before I have to leave to go meet my brother.
CaliStar is packed, bustling with vibrancy as I pull open the heavy glass door and step inside. The Michelin-star restaurant in the heart of Ridgewood has a several months long waitlist;in fact, the only reason why we’re even here is because Gareth made the reservation.
Evidently, the chef, Lennon Blackwell, is a Bears fan.
The hostess greets me and I scan the restaurant for the familiar face of my brother, but I don’t see him yet.
After a quick glance at the clock on my phone, I smile at the hostess. “Reservation under Fox.”
“Your table is ready for you, miss.” She gestures for me to follow her.
As I walk, I smooth my dress, the black one I wear when I need to look a little more upscale than I really am. I’ve traded the fishnets for nude tights, and my combat boots for plain, pointed-toe flats.
That’s as good as it’s going to get.
I look at my phone again, telling myself Dylan’s probably circling the street for parking and that’s why he’s late. Although my gut tells me otherwise.
The waitress leads me through the restaurant and onto a private back patio where delicate string lights shimmer above the tables, mingling with the flickering glow of candles.
Then something in the air shifts. It’s subtle, but electrifies with the undeniable charge I feel only when I’m aroundhim.
After taking in my surroundings, I lift my gaze, instantly colliding with Gareth’s heady stare, and butterflies erupt in my stomach.
He stands, rounding the table to pull out my chair as the hostess says, “Enjoy your meals.”
I forget how to breathe when Gareth’s fingertips brush against my arm as I slide into my seat.
“Hey,” he greets, helping as I scoot my chair closer to the table.
“Hey.” I look up at him as he moves back to his own seat, drinking in his dark gray slacks and crisp light gray button-up.He popped a few buttons, exposing a white T-shirt underneath, and rolled up the sleeves to his elbows.
He makes my damn mouth water. I look away before I’m caught staring.
“Where’s my brother?” I ask at the same time as he says, “I didn’t think you’d show.”
My brows crumple. “Why wouldn’t I?
Gareth mirrors my expression and leans back in his seat. “Dylan canceled.”
“What?” I ask too quickly, digging for my phone I’d slid into my purse before I sat down. “He didn’t tell me he wasn’t coming.”
“You didn’t get the text? He sent it about an hour ago. I guess he has food poisoning.”
“Story of his life,” I mutter, unlocking my home screen. My fingers glide over the glass as I get to my messages, pulling up my brother’s. “Shit.”
Ididmiss a message.
Dylan
Hey sis, I need to raincheck on dinner. Been puking my guts out for an hour. Word to the wise, don’t get seafood from a street vendor.
Stomach souring, I put my phone back in my purse. “That’s disgusting.”
