I laugh and then look to my side. “Lara,” I say, smiling, “this is Dylan and Caroline. Guys, this is Lara. She owns this place.”
“Nice to meet you two,” she says and turns to the girls. “Give them the private room in the back.”
“Will do, Mrs. Cicionni,” the brunette says.
“What do you like to eat?” She looks at Dylan, smiling.
“Pizza and spaghetti,” he says and then smiles, putting up his finger. “With meatballs.”
Lara claps her hands together in joy. “Now this I can do,” she jokes with him, getting the menus from the girls and then smiling at them. “I’ll take them back there. Will you tell Tony that I need a special plate for Justin and his guests?”
“Sure thing,” the blonde says and walks to the back of the kitchen.
“Come with me,” she says. Dylan walks next to her, and I see Caroline shiver.
“Are you cold?” I ask, and she still doesn’t look at me. Instead, she just nods. We walk past the dining area full of high-top tables with steel stools. The outer walls are all windows, and then the wooden wall inside has all the signed jerseys from the team.
“Are you taking us to a secret room?” Dylan asks, his eyes going wide when she nods her head. “Mom, we are going to a secret room.”
She opens one of the doors in the hallway, and we are taken into one of the private dining rooms. This one has a round table in the middle set for eight people. “Sit,” she says, putting the menus on the table. “And I’ll be back with some wine and some juice?”
“Thank you,” I say to her, and Dylan is already sitting in one of the chairs.
“Come and sit,” I say, taking her hand in mine. It feels like ice. “You’re freezing.”
“Not really,” she says, and then she shivers again. “I get like this when I’m nervous.”
“I’ll be right back,” I say and walk out of the room. Closing the door behind me, I come face-to-face with Lara, who is carrying a tray of drinks. “Hey, can you make sure she doesn’t leave?” I say, and she smirks at me.
“Don’t tell me we finally found someone who is immune to your charm?” she says, laughing, and I have to smile.
“Let’s just say that I think if she could, she would have already hightailed it out of here.”
“I’ll keep her here.” She winks at me and then goes to open the door. “Even if I have to throw myself down in front of her.” She walks into the room.
Walking past the hostesses, who smile at me, I run back to my apartment. I rush past the security and take the elevator up to my condo, hurrying to my room and snatching the first sweater I see. I make it back to the restaurant in a matter of two minutes. The hostess smiles at me again, and I see that her shirt is down just a touch. I shake my head and jog back to the room, and when I walk in, I see Lara sitting at the table talking to Caroline.
“Hey,” I say, my chest heaving as I walk in, and Lara now gets up and smiles at them.
“Dylan,” Lara says, “would you like to come and help make your pizza?” He looks at Caroline, his eyes big.
“Mom,” he says, pleading, “can I?”
“Sure,” she says. He gets up, and they walk out of the room and close the door.
“Here,” I say, handing her the blue sweater I ripped off my shelf. My hand stays outstretched, and she just looks at it. “It’s just a sweater,” I say, and I’m about to just put it on her when she reaches out and takes it from me.
“Did you run home?’ she asks softly as she puts on the sweater, and it’s so big on her the shoulder lines are in the middle of her arm. I sit next to her and nod, grabbing a glass of water. “You didn’t have to do that.”
“You were cold,” I say, and I put my arm on the back of her chair while I lean back. “So.”
“You just solve everything,” she says, and she looks down and then up again.
“If I can do it, I do it,” I say, looking at her, and fuck, do I ever want to kiss her. If her son wasn’t out there and she wasn’t scared and nervous of this thing happening, I would lean over and devour her. “Why are you nervous?” She looks down and then up again and leans forward to grab her wine glass and takes a sip. “Is that called liquid courage?”
“I’ve never drank wine before,” she says. “I like it.”
“Have you ever been drunk before?” I ask, and she shakes her head and takes another sip.
“I think that’s enough wine for now,” I say. “I have experience with it.”
“Oh, I bet you do,” she mumbles under her breath, and I smirk.
“My sisters should open a winery with all the wine they consume,” I say. “I don’t give a shit if you drink the whole bottle. But are you ready to sleep over at my house?” She looks at me, and her mouth opens and then closes. She looks down at the glass in her hand and then up at me again and then down. “I don’t mean with me,” I say. “Although I wouldn’t say no,” I say softly, and she leans forward and puts the glass back on the table. “What’s the matter, sweetheart? Don’t want to sleep over?”
“Um …” she starts to say.
I throw my head back and laugh. “Stop being nervous. It’s just me.”
“Yeah,” she says, “but it’s here at this really fancy restaurant.” And I have to wonder if the wine is really working on her or if she’s opening up to me. “And I’m not fancy, and the girls are all smiling at you, and then you have me”—she points at herself—“with my Walmart clothes and the whole closet of skeletons.” She grabs the wine again. “I mean, how do I even compete with that?”
“Drink water,” I say, reaching for her water and giving it to her. “If we are going to have this conversation on why I want to be with you, then I’m going to do it with you understanding and listening to what I have to say.”
“I’m listening, Justin.” She raises her fingers to her ears. “My listening ears are open.”
“I want to kiss you,” I say, waiting to see if she says or does anything, and when her eyes only widen, I continue. “I want to take you into my arms, put my hands on your face, and kiss the ever-loving shit out of you.”
“Oh, my,” she says, “I think I need water.”
“I want to sit with you and learn everything about you. I don’t care what you wear.” I lean in, and her breath hitches, and her tongue pokes out to lick her lips. “Although I have to say that seeing you wear my clothes is putting me in a very difficult position.” I look down at my cock that has been rock hard since I sat down next to her and she put my sweater on. Her eyes move down, and she must see my outline because she leans forward again.
“More water,” she says, drinking. “Definitely need more water.”
“We both have a past,” I say. “How do you know I’m not ashamed of the shit I’ve done or what has happened to me? How do you know that we might have a bit more in common than you think?”
She puts her glass of water down and takes a deep breath. “My cell phone got cut off yesterday,” she says and doesn’t stop talking. “To top it all off, my scumbag of an ex stole my kid’s hockey stuff and pawned it, and now they want two hundred dollars.”