And here I thought I dressed up tonight.
It seems a freshly tailored white button-down with jeans and dress boots isn’t Miami-coded enough for these city boys.
“Good to meet you,” the one introduced as Baker tells me while Conrad eyes me suspiciously. I’m gonna take a lucky guess and say he’s the fellow Cove is supposedly on a double date with tonight.
I chuckle to myself, glad I made an extra effort duringmy quick trip away to make some time for Cove and ruin her date. Not that I knew she had a date; that worked out in my favor. Because if she refuses to date me, then I’m gonna make sure that applies to every other man as well.
Conrad, with his slicked-back hair that looks like nothing short of a tornado could disrupt it, directs his attention to Cove, ignoring me altogether.
“Cove.” He nods, reaching for her hand and bringing it to his lips. “Lovely to meet you. Betsy forgot to mention how breathtaking you are.”
I guess Conrad is gonna be more forward than expected. Fine by me. Two can play that game.
“Nice to meet you as well,” Cove tells him as the waitress leads us to a table in the back of the restaurant. “Don’t make this awkward,” Cove whispers to her right, putting us nearly cheek to cheek. Even with her wearing platform heels, I’m still taller. “You’re already crashing without an invite.”
She smells divine. A combination of marshmallows and vanilla. Sweet but not overpowering. Again, a decadence.
“I know how to behave. I just want to be where you are. Promise not to ruin your night.” I wink. She responds with a nod, but doesn’t seem convinced. I chose to take that as her wanting me here.
Do I understand my intentions with Cove Davenport? Not for a second. All I know is that she sticks out to me. And that must count for something. I know what she thinks of rich businessmen, and frankly, I don’t blame her. Although I hate being labeled under that category, my bank account puts me there.
But none of the luxuries that most successful men in my same financial situation take pleasure in are things I even remotely care about. I care about building an empire—or family legacy, in my case. I want to have a life that counts for something. That provides jobs and supplies families with an income that can support them.
I want a community on my ranch. Friends and colleagues who feel like family. It’s a driving force far beyond the money.
But there are some cases, like today, for instance, where money becomes a means of survival. And in this case, that means pulling out all the stops to prove to Cove just how wrong she is.
Then, maybe, just maybe, she’ll take a chance on an old cowboy like me.
The atmosphere at Amore’s is much classier than any restaurant you’ll find in Waterstone. Glass chandeliers litter the ceiling, all lit with a soft yellow ambiance, making the Italian restaurant dangerously romantic.
Too romantic for Cove and Conrad.
We take a seat at a large round table, and I rein in my protective instincts, letting Conrad pull out a chair for Cove. This isn’t me cowering. This is me watching. Waiting to see her reactions and how my being here affects her date.
I can’t help but appreciate the treat of sitting across from her, though. She’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen before. So beautiful it makes my chest hurt at times. And Conrad must be somewhat of a smart man because I see the scandalous looks he gives her when she’s not looking.
Or should I say thewanthe makes no effort to hide.
Well, that makes two of us, again, fucker. Try again.
“Thanks so much for inviting us out tonight,” Betsy tells Baker. “Amore’s is one of our favorite spots in the city.”
I clear my throat and reach for a roll in the middle of the table. “Yes. The invitation is much appreciated,” Icontribute, only staring at Cove. Lucky for me, her eyes are already where I want them, staring daggers at my chest.
She’s not exactly smiling with pride, but I’ll take it.
Baker shakes off my comment and gives Betsy his attention. “Anytime. Glad I could finally get you to agree.” He turns to Cove. “Cove, I’ve been telling Conrad all about your travels. Betsy mentioned you just returned from Aruba?”
Cove smiles at him kindly before holding up her hand to signal the waitress. The table watches as she orders a bottle of wine from afar before turning toward Baker. “Betsy would be correct,” she mumbles with a touch of humor in her voice. “Perks of the job, I guess.”
“Aruba.” Conrad gapes. “I’ve been there a time or two myself. If you ever need any recommendations next time you visit, I’d love to help you out.”
I bet you would, Conrad. Probably invite her to slip n’ slide down your ridiculously polished hair while you’re at it.
“Thanks, Conrad.” Cove sends him a pitying smile. Her body language is enough to show she isn’t interested, and that makes me really fucking happy. Cove has not once pitied me with her responses to my questions or attempts to connect with her.
In fact, she draws near—multiple times, but who’s counting?
