“You look beautiful,” Tyson says once he walks in the bedroom. The black on black suit he’s wearing fits him perfectly and makes me want to drool all over him. They say men look good out of clothes, but I’ll take Tyson in a perfectly tailored suit over some naked Joe anyday.
“With that look, I take it you approve,” he chides.
“Oh, I more than approve. You look absolutely sinful. Are you sure we can’t get a quick fuck in?” I ask.
“God, I’ve made a monster out of you. Come on before I give in,” he says, ushering me off the bed and out the room.
“Why? I love it when you lose control,” I reply, playing devil’s advocate.
Laughing, he leads me down the stairs and like a gentleman, helps me into my coat. At the last second, he throws something in his own coat pocket, but he was too quick for me to see. Maybe it was his keys or something. Instead of his Porsche, Tyson opens the passenger door to his slick Aston Martin Vanquish and I sink into the leather seat like butter, inhaling the new car scent. I don’t know a lot about cars, but I know this one is pure luxury. I’m surprised he’s driving it tonight. He usually only takes it out on special occasions.
“Did I miss some sort of rich people holiday?” I ask once he starts the car. The engine purrs to life and I get wet just from the vibrations.
“No, you didn’t miss anything.”
“So what’s the deal? Why are we taking this car?”
“Can’t I want to drive my girl around in style without having an alternative motive?”
“You can, but I don’t know if I believe you. My spidey senses are tingling.”
“What?” He laughs.
“Haven’t you seen any of the Spiderman movies, or at least read the comics?” I ask incredulously, which only sends him into another fit of laughter.
When he finally calms down, he wipes his eyes and replies, “I swear there’s never a dull moment with you. And to answer your question, no, I haven’t for either.”
I gasp, giving him a horrified look. “You poor boy. I had no idea you’re a product of child abuse. Don’t tell me Garfield made you read law manuals all through your childhood?”
“Quite the opposite actually. He encouraged pop culture. I just had my eye on the prize, even at a young age.”
“Have you always wanted to be a lawyer?” I ask, curious.
“Yep, filling my father shoes is all I ever wanted. What about you? Was there something in particular you wanted to do?”
“No, not really. All I ever wanted to do was leave my small hometown and the people in it. As soon as I turned eighteen and graduated from high school, I was out of there.”
“What about your family? You don’t really talk about them. All I know about them is from the report compiled from the fertility clinic.”
“What’s to tell? The only family I have left is my mama and you know where she is. My daddy ran off when I was five, so who knows if that loser is even still alive. The rest of my so-called relatives never cared to know me and stayed nonexistent.”
“That had to be hard,” he says and I hum.
“What about you? All you ever talk about is your dad.”
“Like you, my family isn’t really worth mentioning. My mom died of an overdose when I was twelve, and a year later her parents died in a plane crash. My dad is great, and never made me feel left out, but his parents on the other hand, stay away most of the time unless we have some sort of high society function. I also have a ladder climbing aunt working on her third marriage and two baby cousins.”
“Ladder climbing, what’s that?” I ask, frowning.
“Of course you don’t know what that is. I love how naive you are to my world; it’s refreshing. When I’m with you, I don’t have the same fears as I did with other women. With you, there’s no using me for my money or where I can get you in the social pecking order. With you, I know you love me for me as I do you.”
We arrive at the restaurant and he stops the car in front of the valet and palms my cheek before he gives me a teasing kiss, which still makes me light and giddy. The love in his eyes outshines the sun, and I’m blinded by him.
“Are you going to tell me what a ladder climber is?” I ask again
“It’s someone you’ll never be,” he answers in a husky voice and I accept his answer, feeling like we just had one of those tender moments that you’re lucky to have in a relationship.
Tyson opens his door, stepping out the car and the valet opens mine. Tossing the keys to him, he teases the guy about being a lawyer and he better take good care of his car. By the pale look on the valet's face, I don’t think he knows Tyson is only kidding. The cool air picks up and I snuggle close to Tyson, holding on to his arm tightly.
Once inside, I look around at the opulence of our surroundings. The high ceilings, golden chandeliers with real crystals, and expensively dressed patrons around us, this is definitely one of those well to do restaurants where the rich take their friends to show off their wealth. I wonder who picked it? Grayson or Tyson.
“Mr. Garfield, it’s nice to see you this evening. We have your table ready and your guests have already arrived,” the stuck up looking hostess hurries over, greeting only him. I guess that answers whose idea it was to come here. I wonder why Tyson would pick something so stuck up?
Tyson pulls me closer to his side as we follow the hostess to the back of the restaurant and a table tucked in it’s own private area. It was all so romantic and I wish Tyson didn’t go through so much trouble. Like the gentleman he is, Tyson takes my coat from me and holds my chair out as Grayson stands. Both these guys must have aced etiquette class. I’m not fooling myself that they haven’t gone.
“Is there anything else you need?” The hostess asks, still only addressing Tyson.
“No, nothing else.”
“Okay, sir. I’ll send your waiter right over.” When she's gone, Nichole gives me a wide smile.
“Evening, Jade. You look absolutely beautiful. Pregnancy suits you.”
“Thanks,” I say.
“Have you two been waiting long?” Tyson asks.
“No, we got here a little before you. I’m surprised you chose this place. Even more surprised you got a table on such short notice and a private one at that,” McHottie says. I’m trying to read his body language, wondering if he’s upset about Tyson and his wife tagging along.
In his usual lazy drawl, Tyson waves Grayson off. “It was nothing. Once they knew the table was for a Garfield, they were tripping over themselves to accommodate me.”
“Must be nice.” I’m surprised Nichole's words have so much bite in them. Usually, she’s all sunshine and unicorn farts, especially with rich people problems. At the confused look on my face, she schools her face back to neutral. “I’m sorry. This place is rather hard to get into. I forget at times that the Garfield’s own this city.”
“What do you mean?” I ask and Tyson gives Nichole a nasty glare.
“Didn’t your boyfriend tell you?” Nichole says but it sounds more like a taunt than casual conversation.
“Tell me what?” At that moment the waitress chooses to come take our order. Having no idea what they serve here and not having had a chance to even look at the menu, Tyson orders for me. Once the waiter takes all our orders, I repeat my question.