Page 34 of Big Dix

The hostess finally comes to her senses and realizes she is ogling a customer and also my date. Trying to regain her composure, she clears her throat. “Please, follow me.”

She escorts us to the lovely table in the corner overlooking the river. Atticus pulls out my chair for me, and after I sit, he lightly brushes a kiss to my cheek before sliding me and my chair a bit closer to the table. I didn’t even know that happened in real life. I’ve only ever seen that in the movies. Huh.

He moves around the table and takes his seat across from me. “You are gorgeous tonight, Evelyn. Thank you for having dinner with me.”

God, he is so polite. And hot. I can’t leave that out.

“Thank you for inviting me. I love this place.”

I definitely don’t come here often enough. This is only the second time I’ve ever been to Angelica’s Etoile. The first was a dinner with a few close friends to celebrate Christina and Rimmington’s official engagement, which is ridiculous because, well, they are already married.

We take our time and pour over the menu, and shortly after the server takes our order, he returns with a wine that will complement our food. He makes a hasty exit after he pours each of us a glass.

Atticus’s phone dings, and as he pulls it from his pocket, his eyes meet mine in apology.

“It’s okay. Go ahead.”

With a sigh, he begins to type a reply.

The restaurant is so beautiful. Romantic candlelight, a live band playing slow songs, and people laughing and dancing to the beat. It’s all so lovely.

“Sorry about that. So, are you excited to see the farm?”

Oh no. I hate to shatter Atticus’s enthusiasm because I am not a country girl. I hate dirt and bugs and wildlife. It’s not my jam.

“I can’t wait to see your place.” I smile and sip my wine, hoping that response is sufficient.

His phone dings again with another message and then again, and I can tell he doesn’t want to have a conversation with whoever it is right now.

“I’m so sorry.”

“No, it’s perfectly fine.” I wave off his apology. “Go ahead. No problem.”

Except a third notification dings before he can manage to unlock his phone, and the intensity on his face has me wondering what in the hell is going on. Luckily, I don’t have to wonder for long. Our food arrives, and he tucks away his phone. Whatever was happening is momentarily forgotten.

The food looks fantastic and smells even better.

“It smells great. Don’t you think?” His eyes sparkle in the candlelight.

I’d like to take a picture of this moment and freeze it in time. First date jitters are fading, annoying mystery messages behind us, great atmosphere, and endless possibilities on the horizon. As scary as dating can sometimes be, with the right person, it just works.

The food does smell amazing. My mouth waters, and I nod my agreement and dig in. The conversation flows as we dine, and I finally feel a bit more relaxed. Until his fucking phone dings again. Atticus bows his head, his irritation evident in his tensed posture. Whoever it is, he is not in the mood.

“I’m sorry, Evelyn. I really am. Do you mind if I make a phone call real quick so I can actually enjoy my time with you?” The look on his face says what his considerate tone toward me does not. He is getting ready to hand someone their ass.

“It’s fine. Please, do what you need to do.”

“I’m sorry.” He lays the white linen napkin down beside his plate before apologizing one more time and making his way toward the balcony.

Okay, alright. I am trying not to be annoyed by this. I can tell he isn’t happy about what is happening here, which eases some of my tension. I sip some more wine and dig into my dinner and take in the restaurant. This sweet older couple waltzes across the dance floor, and it is the most precious thing. I love old people. They are the best.

I can’t help but chance a glance to the balcony where Atticus stands, phone to his ear and the other hand banging out what I can only assume is his point on the rail.

Shit, he is pissed. It’s a little bit alarming but also kind of hot.Maybe I can help him vent his frustrations later.I snort a little laugh because I crack myself up and dip the best damn bread I’ve ever had into the sauce covering the pasta on my plate.

I love bread. I always keep a loaf handy. The girls make fun of me, but when you get stuck in traffic, that glove box bread can be a lifesaver. This food is fantastic. I am about to shovel in another mouthful when I’m interrupted.

“Excuse me. I hate to interrupt what appears to be your last meal, but the hostess told me that you are here with Atticus Dixon. Where is he?”

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