“That’s true. But no, it’s fine.”
“Okay, good. Because it’s a beautiful space. Feels like being on holiday,” he said, looking out over the terrace bathed in its perfect California light. Potted fruit trees and palms, white tablecloths adorned with purple Dendrobium orchids, boughs of fuchsia bougainvillea spilling in through the slats in the roof.
“Yes, it’s enchanting. It’s the Rockwell Group.”
“Pardon?”
“Rockwell Group. They did the redesign of Wolfgang’s restaurant. Lovely flow of indoor and outdoor spaces. Won a bunch of awards. And there’s a great Gary Lang in the dining room. Painted concentric circles. Aggressive. Unexpected.”
Hayes turned his attention back to me, the left side of his mouth curling into a smile. “Aggressive circles? That sounds sexy.”
I laughed. “I suppose. If you’re into that…”
He was quiet for a second, watching me. “I love that you know so much about art.”
Oh, little boy, I wanted to say,if I could show you the things I know.
“Tell me what you told the maître d’,” I said instead. “How was he able to identify me?”
Hayes opened and closed his mouth a couple of times before shaking his head in laughter. “You’re tough.”
“Tell me.”
“I told him…” He spoke softly, slowly, leaning into me. “I told him I was meeting a friend, and that she had dark hair and haunting eyes and would probably be dressed very well. That she looked like a classic movie star. And that she had agreatmouth.”
I sat there, still. “Is that figurative or literal?”
“The mouth?”
“Yeah.”
“Both.”
He was so close to me then I could smell the scent on his skin. Some sort of sandalwood or cedar. And lime. It threw me. The way he looked at me threw me. This was not the plan. Not that I had one, really. But it certainly wasn’t to be turned inside out by this boy five minutes into our date. We hadn’t even ordered drinks.
“What are you thinking?” He smiled that disarming smile.
“I want to know what your intentions are, Hayes Campbell.”
“What areyourintentions? Did you come here to sell me art?”
“Maybe.”
“Hmm…” he said, without breaking eye contact. “Well… I came to buy whatever you’re selling.”
In that moment, it didn’t matter how old he was or how many fans he’d amassed. In that moment, he had me. And I realized that justknowingthat I could have a fling was not going to be enough.
He nodded then, as if sealing some unspoken pact, and turned his attention back toward the dining room, waving his hand in the air. “Shall we order?”
“How’s Isabelle?” he asked once the waiter had departed.
“She’s fine. Thank you.”
“What’d she say when you told her we were having lunch?”
“I didn’t.”
Hayes raised an eyebrow in my direction. “You didn’t?” He smiled.
