One Wrong Choice (A Cruel and Beautiful Book Book 3) Page 3

  She lifts her menu as the waiter rattles off the specials. Listening is the furthest from my mind as I admire the beauty before me. When she glances up catching me, I raise my menu.

  Fuck. Everything is in French, and I’d taken Spanish in high school. Not that I remember any of that either.

  “I’ll give you both a minute.” The waiter at least glances at me for a second after staring at her.

  When he’s gone, she laughs. “Foie gras.”

  I take a second and decide what to say. I go with the truth.

  “Yeah, I don’t know what that is,” I admit.

  “Sorry, and trust me, I don’t know what half this menu says either. Someone recommended the place. I guess I should have googled it.” Her laugh is light, and I don’t feel as stupid. “But I do know that foie gras is duck liver.”

  She must notice I’ve turned a little green at the thought and giggles harder. “No worries, not my thing either.”

  “Why don’t you choose for me? I’m not that picky.”

  “All right,” she says with a teasing note, and I’m left wondering if I should be afraid. “Don’t blame me if you hate it.”

  “I doubt there’s anything you could do I’d hate.”

  Blatant. I’ve never been one to beat around the bush.

  Her eyes hold mine, and in that second I think maybe she’s into me, too.

  “I should probably tell you that I have a boyfriend.”

  Of course, she does. Well, fuck.

  Three

  Jenna

  This was a bad idea. A very bad idea. Damn those eyes of his, the way they drill into mine. They actually make me shiver all the way to my toes. And how the hell does he do that? No one has ever made me do that, including Kenneth. His shirtsleeves are rolled up just enough to expose his ink, and the tips of my fingers itch to touch it. Screwed—that’s what I am. And it was so sexy when he admitted he didn’t know anything about the menu—all I wanted to do was grab his face and plant a wet kiss on his lips.

  But then, I had to be honest and tell the truth. When I dropped the boyfriend bomb, the happy fled from his eyes. And mine went right along with.

  “So, why me?” he asks.

  “What?”

  “Dinner? Why me?”

  “To repay your kindness earlier. You didn’t have to do what you did,” I say.

  “And you didn’t have to do this.” He flicks his hand, indicating the fancy restaurant. He’s right. I didn’t. So, exactly why did I do it? The truth is, I wanted to get to know him a little more. His compassion touched something in me, and for whatever reason—call it crazy if you want—I want to get to know this man. I decide to take that leap and tell him.

  “Not many people would’ve done what you did. And even have gone so far as to not charge me. So I want to get to know you a little better.”

  “And that’s it?” He’s very skeptical, as he should be.

  Picking up the fork by my hand, I fiddle with it. “I don’t know. I, uh…” I look up from my fiddling fingers to his eyes and decide that’s a mistake because their intensity nearly knocks me out of my chair.

  “The thing is, like I told you earlier, my friend’s husband passed away, and I don’t talk much about my boyfriend to her or anyone for that matter.” I realize I’m babbling, but I can’t seem to stop myself. “She moved to D.C., started over. And even though she’s my best friend in the world, I feel like I still can’t even bring up the fact that I’m dating. Not that it’s a big deal. We’re not even close to being serious.”

  I clamp my mouth shut because I’m making an idiot of myself. Only, he doesn’t seem to mind. In fact, his next words confirm why I wanted to get to know him better.

  “So, how long ago did this happen?”

  Holy guacamole. Compassion and a good listener. Why do I have to have a boyfriend? Okay, let me get my shit together because he’s totally watching me as I stare at him wide-eyed. I blink.

  “Her husband passing or my dating this guy?”

  “You dating this guy?” He frowns and says, “That sounded awful, like I’m an unfeeling person. Just let me say his passing must’ve been terrible for all of you.”

  Shuddering with the memory of it, I rapidly blink, hoping the waterworks don’t start. What happened today was weird. My emotions are all over the place. I guess my phone conversation with Cate set me off, and I haven’t done that in a while.

  A large hand reaches over and covers mine. “You okay?” he asks.

  “I’ll be fine. I’m sorry. Really, it’s a little strange for me to be acting this way. Cate moved to get everything that was Charleston out of her head, and at first I thought she was running from someone—a guy who had gotten too close. But now it makes sense. She seems a little better, but still not the same Cate as she used to be. It kills, you know?”

  His hand still covers mine, all warm and safe. I like that about him. Kenneth would hand me a handkerchief from his suit coat pocket, and that would be the end of it. Or perhaps he’d pat my shoulder a few times. But I surely wouldn’t feel comforted like this.

  “I have to admit, I don’t. Never having lost a close friend like that. It must totally bite. But I get how you must want to hold things back. Sometimes it’s hard to share happy news with people who are suffering.”

  “Exactly.” When I say these things to Kenneth, even though he listens, he doesn’t grasp it like Brandon just did. Kenneth nods and smiles, gives me that little pat, and while it’s sweet and I know he means well, it’s not deep.

  Brandon tilts his head and says, “You say that as if those close to you don’t get it, which sucks.”

  “No, that’s not it. They get it, but they’re probably tired of hearing me complain. Most people are of the mindset that Cate should be over his death by now and on to living her life. And she’s doing the best she can. She landed an awesome job she loves and has made great friends. She even likes where she’s living. But it’s still half-baked for her.”

  “Maybe you need to cut her loose.”

  “What?” My voice rises as I ask the question.

  “Like a parent does with a child. Let her fly, Jenna. Maybe you’re being too protective.”

  Leaning forward, my elbow on the table—which my mother would have a hissy fit over—I think back over the last year and wonder if he’s right. Have I been too overprotective of her? Discouraged her in any way? I’m not too sure.

  “No, I think I’ve been the opposite of that. I’ve encouraged her to fly, or at least I believe I have.”

  “Maybe you’re the one who needs to let loose then,” he says, his deep voice resonating through the depths of my bones, making my skin hum with expectation. Only there’ll be nothing more than this dinner, because I am loyal and don’t two-time anyone. And I won’t do that to Kenneth.

  I arch my brows and feel my mouth curve up, even though I don’t want it to. It’s harder than ever not to flirt with this man. Kind, beautiful, sexy, and everything I shouldn’t want. “What do you mean?”

  He laughs. “I think you know exactly what I mean, Jenna.”

  The waiter returns with our appetizers, and Brandon reminds me of a pug as he ogles my Escargots de Bourgogne. He appears much more pleased as the waiter places his gougère, which is cheese in a light pastry, before him. The food is delicious.

  “Would you like to try one?” I ask as I pull one of the escargots out of the shell. These are one of my favorite delicacies. Their mild taste, combined with the parsley butter and garlic they are baked in, make them sublime.

  “Um, I don’t think so,” he answers, his face contorted in disgust.

  “What? Are you afraid?” I tease.

  “No, not at all.”

  I wave my little snail in front of him, saying, “Prove it.”

  He draws in a deep breath and agrees.

  But I stop him first. “You must savor this. No nose plugging and swallowing it whole, or you’ll miss all the lovely flavor it imparts.”

 
; His face morphs into one of sheer horror, and I totally crack up.

  “You think this is funny, don’t you?” he asks.

  “I do. Do you like oysters?”

  He straightens in his chair and announces, “Love ’em.”

  “Oh, man, are you in for a treat.”

  He grabs my tiny fork and pulls the snail off, expecting an alien to explode in his mouth. But when I see the flavor hit his tongue and the delicacy melt in his mouth, pure pleasure erupts over his features.

  “Jesus, that was really good.” His eyes are so expressive, I start to chuckle. It would be very difficult for this man to tell a lie.

  “Told ya. Now, give me back my fork.”

  “Huh-uh. I want another one. I’ll trade you.”

  Inspecting his goods versus mine, I say, “I’ll make you a deal. Fifty-fifty split.”

  “I’ll take it,” he says, grinning like he won the lottery.

  I hold out my hand.

  “What?” he asks.

  “I still need my fork, or do you know how to extract these little suckers?”

  “Hmm. No, but I’m a fast learner.” And he is. He watches me take the next one out, and then his grabby hands have to try. He acts like the kid who just learned how to tie his shoes for the first time.

  “You’re the cutest thing in here. If I’d known the escargots would have been such a hit, I would’ve ordered several.”

  “And I would’ve eaten them. I’m going to learn how to make these.” He leans back in his chair.

  “Really? You like to cook?”

  “Oh, well, I sort of do. But I’ve never tried anything like this before. Do they come in the shell like that?”

  “No clue. I can barely cook a hot dog.”

  “Maybe a cooking class is in order,” he says.

  Next comes the main course, which I ordered chateaubriand for two. I didn’t get anything too exotic this time, and I figure beef tenderloin would be perfect. I’m right. Brandon loves it. What man doesn’t love red meat and potatoes?

  “Christ, is this good,” he says between bites.

  “Can’t go wrong with meat and taters, can you?”

  He only stares, gives his head a shake, and chews slowly. After he swallows his bite of food, he says, “I’ll say one thing. You have great taste in food for a woman who doesn’t cook.”

  “If you ask me, I have great taste in many things, not only food.”

  “Don’t they say the way to a man’s heart is through his stomach?” He’s doing his best to maintain a straight face.

  “Not according to my Aunt Kendra.”

  “Oh? And what does your Aunt Kendra say?”

  “Not too long ago, I overheard her telling her friends that the way to a man’s heart was the reverse cowgirl, except that at her age, when you need a new hip, she was going to have to resort to using her mouth.”

  It’s a good thing he swallowed his last bite because the bellow of laughter that roars out of him would surely have contained that piece of beef.

  “Is your Aunt Kendra local? I want to meet her.”

  “Yes, she’s my dad’s oldest sister, and she is something else. She drives my mother batshit crazy because she has no filter. Doesn’t matter where she is or who she’s with. And she is quite entertaining. And sometimes she gives demonstrations. Like the time I walked into my mom’s parlor—”

  “Wait, your mom has a parlor?”

  “Oh, God, don’t ask. It’s a small den. But anyway, Aunt Kendra was over, along with some of the aunts, and she brought her best friend. Somehow or another, they got on the sexmobile, and Aunt Kendra was demonstrating the Kama Sutra. My mother was horrified. My aunt’s friend acted as the guy, and they were going at it so the women there could get educated.” I do the air quote thing with my fingers. “Apparently, Aunt Kendra had somehow gotten her hands on a copy of the book and was giddy over it. Anyway, sometime after that, my Uncle Gideon—Aunt Kendra’s husband—ended up in the hospital with a back injury.”

  Brandon is laughing so hard, he’s holding up his hands, telling me to stop.

  “No more. I can’t breathe. Please tell me Aunt Kendra doesn’t have a beehive hairdo.”

  “Worse. She has one of those styles where she goes to the beauty shop once a week, and it’s teased out to kingdom come.” I hold my hands out to demonstrate how far.

  “Oh, God, I have to meet her. Please? One day, you must introduce us.”

  “Do you work on PT Cruisers? That’s what she drives. Mom calls it a clown car.”

  “Not usually, but I’ll make an exception for her.”

  “Then I’ll bring her in so you can give her a tune-up. After she sees you, you’ll be the one getting tuned up.”

  As the waiter clears off the plates, I remind Brandon that our dessert is next.

  “I hope your dessert and mine are the same.”

  “Why’s that?” I ask.

  “Because I’m afraid yours will be better than mine, and I’ll have to steal yours.”

  He doesn’t have to worry. I’ve ordered us both chocolate soufflés. And they are delicious. As he eats, his gaze bounces from the dessert to me. I’m not sure if I even look at what my spoon is digging into. I only have eyes for his mouth. If I knew soufflés could be this sexy, I would’ve ordered ten.

  The meal ends, and when the bill arrives, he moves to grab it. I slap his hand away. “There is not a chance in hell I’m letting you pay. This is for what you did, and my treat. Besides, if you pay, I’ll never bring Aunt Kendra in.”

  He leans back and says, “You drive a hard bargain.”

  I pay the bill, and we leave.

  “Where did you park?” he asks.

  “Down the street. I lucked out.”

  “Come on. I’ll walk you.”

  When we get to my car, it’s a bit awkward. I want to kiss him goodnight, but I can’t and I’m not quite sure how to handle this. Maybe I should kiss his cheek.

  “Brandon, I had a great time. You were a lot of fun to hang out with, and thanks, too, for listening again.”

  “Hey, anytime you want to talk, you know where to find me. Seriously.”

  “Thank you.”

  “No, thank you for the amazing dinner. It was really awesome.”

  He bends down toward me and I can’t have him kissing me, because I know it would lead to more, so I turn my head. But I don’t have to worry at all. He hugs me, and then steps back to open my car door.

  “Be safe driving home, Jenna Rhoades.” He walks away, and I can’t help but watch him go. I also can’t help the disappointment the flows through me, and I feel horrible for it. I shouldn’t want another man’s lips on mine. But God help me, I do.

  Four

  Brandon

  A few days later, I close the hood and face her. It’s cute the way her eyes plead for me to believe her.

  “I’m serious. It wouldn’t start, otherwise I wouldn’t have called you,” she says. I can’t help but smile. “No, really. And this totally sucks, because it’s like going to the doctor with a scratchy throat and they just look at you and say they don’t see anything. Or when you call the IT guy to look at your computer, and you’re like it really did give me the blue screen of death.”

  The more she talks, the more I want things I can’t have. Taking a deep breath, I remind myself for the millionth time she’s off limits.

  “I believe you,” I say, to take the panic look off her face. “It looks like the car just wanted some one-on-one time.”

  Her eyes narrow, and she lifts a finger to wiggle it in my face. “Oh no, you don’t. I didn’t want quality time with you. I thought when it happened, I could call a friend.”

  She’s so fucking gorgeous; she can’t help it. “So, that’s what we are now, friends?”

  “Why not?” She shrugs.

  “I don’t know. Like this is only the second time I’ve had the privilege of meeting you outside of my shop.”

  Even the look of offense on her is
cute.

  “I thought we were friends. I’ve told you things I haven’t even told my bestie.”

  I give in to her earnest expression. “We can be friends… for now.”

  I hadn’t intended to tack on that last part.

  Her eyes shoot wide. “For now?”

  “Yeah, like I came over here after work and I’m hungry. A friend would offer to feed me after doing said friend a favor.”

  Lips that can make sinners out of us both form an incredulous O before pursing close.

  “Actually, that’s why I was headed out. I was in search of dinner.”

  “There’s nothing in your fridge?”

  “Oh, there’s stuff. But with my cooking skills, nothing that would hit the spot at the moment.”

  “Show me,” I say.

  A sigh that lifts her breasts exhales from her mouth. “Fine. But you won’t like my cooking.”

  Inside, I find of wealth of items to make a meal with. “You’re in luck. I’m hungry enough to cook for both of us.”

  “No, that’s not fair.”

  “True. I guess you’ll have to make it up to me somehow.”

  The wink I toss at her has her opening her mouth, which only hardens my cock. Speechlessly, she continues to gape at me as a blush creeps across her cheeks. She’s fucking edible, so I turn away, trying to maintain this friend zone she has me in and get to work. In less than an hour, we are seated across from each other—she with a wine glass in her hand.

  “Honestly, I can’t believe you don’t have a girlfriend. I mean, seriously, I would have never thought to sauté veggies and then steam chicken top. It was so simple, yet delicious.”

  “Don’t underestimate the seasoning and some prep time.”

  “Seriously though, why are you single?” She zeroes in on me with her index finger held up. “And don’t say you’re one of those guys who doesn’t do relationships. That’s so cliché.”