Page 65 of A Really Bad Idea

“Cool. Can I come? I have a lot of fancy clothes. Mom makes us dress up for everything.” The last word comes out with disdain. “I went to a birthday party at a trampoline park, wearing dress pants and a button-down. She tried to make me wear a tie!”

I laugh. “At least you were the handsomest guy at the party. I can’t take you with me tonight, but how about I come over next weekend for a Wii challenge?”

“Heck yeah!” he says, followed by the distinct yell of Beth scolding for him using a “bad” word. “Heck is not a bad word. Grandpa uses it all the time,” he says to his mother and then turns back. “It’s a date, Aunt Meadow. Dylan has been kicking my butt at Mario Kart, so I need you to show him who’s boss.”

I laugh as I put my wallet and keys in my bag. “Good. I’ll kick his butt next.”

“I love you.”

I smile. “I love you, too, buddy.”

Beth’s porcelain face reappears. “He drives me nuts, but he’s so damn sweet sometimes that I want to eat him.”

“You said a bad word!” Aiden shouts off camera.

Beth ignores him and focuses on me.

“You ready?” she asks me, and I nod my head. “Good. Because you’re late.”

“Shit.” The neon light of my clock puts a pep in my step.

“You said a bad word, too, Aunt Meadow!” Aiden chimes.

“Time to end this call. I told Christian I’d meet him there at eight,” I state. “Wish me luck.”

Beth grins. “You don’t need luck. Just have fun.”

The drive to The Plaza passes by quickly. I play with the gem design on my clutch and open and close the snaps the entire trip. When the marquee for the iconic hotel comes into view, I get butterflies in my stomach. As we pull up to the red-carpeted outdoor steps, it only heightens my anticipation.

Heightened because of a man.

Christian is standing on the staircase, leaning against the gold railing. He’s wearing a black tuxedo with a traditional bow tie. It’s a look I don’t care for on most men, as it sometimes comes off as dorky. Not on Christian. He looks debonair. Sinful even.

With his broad shoulders and a tapered waist, the tuxedo shows off his athletic physique, and the tailored pants make him appear even taller, larger. His hair is combed back, and his lips are pursed as he adjusts his cuff links. I take a beat before exiting the car.

He is a beautiful man. I know you’re not supposed to say that about men. They’re roguish or brawny, bullish and even herculean. He is those things but so much more.

Maybe it’s the way his dark brows accentuate his emerald-green eyes, the sun-kissed skin he has year-round, or even the perfect bow of his mouth, but he is just beautiful to look at. He’s manly for sure with his thick build and square jaw. Yet he has a kindness to his face. I don’t quite know what it is, but lately, when I look at him, I find I don’t want to stop.

When I open my car door and step out, he stands up straight and comes jogging down the stairs toward me.

Taking his hand, I follow him off the curb and to the base of the stairs. I adjust my dress to make sure the bottom is smooth.

“You’re gorgeous.” His eyes are steady as his hand rises to his chest.

“You have good taste in women’s apparel.”

He leans forward and speaks softly, “I have good taste in women.”

I laugh. All the worry I had when thinking about tonight eases with the way his lips curve up to one side.

He motions toward the gold doors. “Shall we?”

As we walk inside, my neck cranes, so I can admire the crystal chandeliers. I went to the tearoom once when I was fourteen and was too young to appreciate the regality of the gold trim work, marble pillars, and artwork that speaks to its history.

We’re followed into the elevator by a larger group of people, all dressed elegantly. Christian steps to the back of the car. I take a spot in front of him. As the doors are about to close, another couple appears, and someone puts their hand in the doors’ path to make it reopen. They’re laughing and breathless, expressing thanks.

As we all take another step back to allow the couple to enter, my body collides with Christian’s. He laces a hand on my hip, and I inhale deeply. The heat of his hand burns through the silk of my dress. It electrifies my body.