“In all seriousness,” I rush out, attempting to stop my thoughts from running rampant. “Thanks for finding this place. And for setting it all up. I’ve had fun.”
“Me too, Keels. I think we nailed this whole ‘getting a life’ business.”
“Absolutely.” I laugh again, squeezing his hand just as Ralph sings the opening line.
It’s late by the time we leave the bar, and I’m thankful for Sal’s driver when he pulls up in front of the exit, saving me from having to walk when I’m feeling a little lightheaded.
Who am I kidding? I’m drunk. And if I’m not mistaken, Sal’s a little tipsy himself. Which I didn’t think was possible. He seems like a seasoned drinker. A man that knows his limits and never dares to cross them.
After “Baker Street,” I stayed off the dance floor, spending the rest of the night discussing music with Sal, getting to know him outside of work. And just when I thought he couldn’t be any more decent of a human, I was wrong.
Not only does that man have the D’Angelo Foundation that he set up with Paige, and his business in New York, but it turns out, he’s been quietly donating millions to various charities around the country, some that include funding instruments for disadvantaged children who want to learn, and another more recent charity to support grassroots football teams.
This man follows his passions.
And it kind of makes me want to be something he’s passionate about.
As always, Sal opens my door and waits for me to slide in before walking around to the other side, waving off his driver when he gets out to help.
“We’re dropping off Keeley first, Jeffrey,” he tells his driver, gripping the back of the front passenger seat as he leans forward, offering me a healthy dose of forearm porn now that he’s rolled up his sleeves. “She’ll give you the address,” he adds, turning to me when I’m not ready, catching me staring.
Whoops.
I smile, unaffected, and after relaying my address, I lie back against the headrest, closing my eyes.
My mind swirls with images of the night, and it feels like barely a minute has passed when Sal’s palm curls around my thigh, the tip of his pinky brushing my skin where my dress has risen.
“We’re here,” he whispers, his gravelly voice sending a shiver right through me, ending between my legs.
“You shouldn’t be allowed to whisper, Sal,” I whisper right back. “It’s confusing.”
I open my eyes to find Sal’s puzzled expression, and I giggle uncontrollably. “Oh, Sal. For a wise old man, you can be incredibly clueless at times.”
The car comes to a stop, and Sal’s quick to jump out, walking around the back to open my door. “I’ll walk you up,” he says loudly, as though trying not to whisper.
“Thank you.”
I link my arm through his as we walk up the steps to the front of the building, and when we reach the entry, I let go, spinning to face him. “Thank you again. This was fun. How long do you think we can hold off before we have to do it again? You know, to ensure we keep that balance everyone speaks of.”
Sal chuckles when I frown. “A good month. Maybe two.”
“Oh, perfect. That works for me.”
I rustle around for my key in my bag and open the front door, holding it ajar as I say goodbye. “Have a good night, Sal. I?—”
“I’m walking you up.”
“What?”
“To your apartment.”
“I can find the way. I’m not that drunk.”
“I never said you were. Indulge an old man, would you?”
My jaw shifts as I gesture for him to walk through. “Age is simply a number, Sal. You know that, right?”
“Just walk.” His stern tone has me almost skipping ahead, and when we reach the elevator, I link my arm through his once more.
