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I swallow, suddenly feeling like a major dirt-bag. “Wow. That’s actually really sweet. Sorry for misjudging you.”
He dips his chin, acknowledging my words. “It’s okay, you weren’t wrong, necessarily. And for the record, I never led anyone on… they were aware I wasn’t a relationship guy.”
I hold my hands up. “You don’t have to explain. I have nothing against consensual... relationships.”
Colby laughs, but it’s not his usual, comfortable laugh. “Anyway,” he starts.
“Yes, subject change, please.”
“Does talking about sex make you uncomfortable, Noel?” He stops at a red light and peers over at me, waiting expectantly for my answer.
My cheeks are on fire. Yes, in fact, talking about sex with Colby Knight does make me uncomfortable. Not that I’m thinking about having sex with Colby. “Of course not.” My voice comes out a little higher than usual. “We’re both adults here.”
He smiles, the big one, the one that makes his dimples look magnificent and lights up his whole face. “It’s fun to see you squirm.”
Thankfully, I’m saved from anymore sex talk as we pull up to the valet in front of The Parthenon. I try to stay calm, but this is the fanciest restaurant in D.C. One of those places that has a six month wait list.
The front of the historic, downtown building has been painted and freshened up with crisp, white paint. But still has that colonial charm from the carvings in the wood above the building and the gold sconces lining both sides of the glass doors. I watch as the elegant patrons sway into the restaurant with their designer clothes and shoes and feel instantly out of place. I know I’m blushing again. But this time with nerves. I close my eyes and take a deep breath. The warmth of a hand touching mine pulls me from my thoughts. I glance up to see Colby standing there with my door opened. I hadn’t realized he’d gotten out of the vehicle and come around to my side already.
“Everything okay?” he asks, his eyebrows knitting together. His hand covering mine is large and warm, and surprisingly comforting.
“Yeah, I’m good.” I step out of the vehicle, and he doesn’t let go of my hand.
Colby tucks my hand through his arm before leading me inside the restaurant and up to the ornate hostess stand.
“Mr. Knight?” The hostess says upon seeing us.
He turns to her. “Yeah, that’s me.”
“Right this way,” the hostess says, leading us down a quiet hallway lit with the same gold wall sconces that line the walls outside. She brings us to a private table in the corner of the large restaurant. We’re not completely separated from the other patrons, but enough that it’s quiet, romantic even. If this was a real date, anyway.
The cozy round table has a flickering candle in the center and a classic white tablecloth. There are two leather armchairs tucked into the table. When the waiter, a young man with well-groomed black hair, appears and introduces himself as Pierre, the hostess excuses herself and heads back in the direction we just came from. Pierre walks over and pulls my chair out; I take a seat and he places my napkin in my lap for me. Colby chuckles at the surprised expression on my face. I’ve never been to a place so fancy that they put the napkin on your lap, I didn’t even know that was a thing.
He pulls Colby’s chair out next and gives him the special-napkin-treatment. We order our drinks, Colby just gets water, and I ask for a glass of wine, hoping to calm what’s left of my nerves.
Once Pierre leaves us, Colby turns to me. “If your napkin shifts, I can help put it back on your lap.”
I roll my eyes but am secretly glad he’s back to acting like his normal, obnoxious self. A trait I’m finding more endearing and less annoying as of late. But I’ll never tell Colby that.
“You act nervous,” Colby comments, eyeing my fingers that are tapping on the table.
I blow out a deep breath. “I feel out of place.” I look down at my hand, removing it from the table and resting it on my lap instead.
“You’re only out of place here because you’re not stuffy and pretentious like everyone else,” he whispers, his face breaking into an easy smile. “If you were that way, I wouldn’t want to spend the evening with you.”
His words make my skin tingle. He’s talking about tonight almost as if it’s a real date. And the way he said spending the evening with you sounded sultry coming from his lips.
Thankfully, Pierre interrupts the charged moment. He sets our drinks down along with two of the prettiest menus I’ve ever seen. The covers are leather like our chairs, but the inside is white linen with gold embosses letters.
“I knew you’d love the menus,” Colby muses, clearly watching me take everything in.
“This whole place is so pretty.” I look around, taking in the old, plaster walls and hardwood floors, the floral arrangements and the fireplace, the lighting and the music. Everything comes together for the perfect ambiance.
“Romantic, huh?” He moves his dark eyebrows up and down.
“It really is. I’m going to be a dating expert after your coaching.”
Something flashes across his face, but it’s gone so quickly, I can’t name what it was. He plasters his winning smile on his face and peruses his menu.
