Page 36 of I'm Looking for a Man in Finance
Once we were seated, and the waiter delivered our drinks, the reality of the situation hit me. This wasn’t a game anymore. James wasn’t lurking in the corners of Whiskey Locker plotting my demise for the night, and I wasn’t attempting to gain the attention of whichever gilet-clad man in the bar would have me. James was now the subject of my article, and to make this believable, we were going to have to treat this as anactualdate.
It was beginning to seem like he was coming to a similar realization. A slight tug of his collar, followed by a deep breath. His face flushed a little, a pink hue creeping up from his neck to his jawline. It was a subtle shift, but it didn’t escape me. He was usually so composed, but nowthere was a tension in his posture, something almost … vulnerable.
His fingers lingered around the edge of his glass, gripping it just a bit tighter than necessary, like he was searching for some stability. I saw his eyes flicker toward me, only for a second, before he quickly looked down at his menu, his brow furrowing as though he were trying to concentrate.
I wondered if he, too, was struggling to process the uncharted territory we had just entered. The way he had leaned in earlier to whisper in my ear, the soft way his words had brushed against my skin, felt different now. There was an earnestness in his manner that hadn’t been there before, as if this moment, this night, was suddenly more important to him than he’d let on.
“It’s not too late to abort the mission,” I told him, realizing neither of us knew how to operate around the other when we weren’t on opposing teams. Now that we were working toward the same goal, we were each learning about the other for the first time.
Our table’s silence was so thick, even the waiter noticed, looking from one stiff back to the other.
“You want to give up an opportunity to have dinner atCrepitio?” James looked at me with fake dismay. He was right. I had become entangled in this exact dating scheme, all for the chance to write about the very same food I could be eating for dinner tonight.
“This,” I gestured between us, “is quite awkward. Neither of us intended ondatingthe other and sparks will not be flying off the page of my article if sparks aren’t flying during the date.”
James slowly lowered his menu, a confident smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he leaned back in his seat. “Shall we start over and get to know each other? Who knows, maybe we’ll have a good time while we’re at it.”
His words were casual, but there was a nervous edge to them, a hesitation that revealed more than he probably intended. James Rossi, with all his confidence, was as out of his depth as I was. It was strangely comforting to know we were both navigating this new dynamic for the first time.
Then, just like the first time we met, James reached for the bottle of wine he had ordered for us. The way he poured the wine—slowly, deliberately—felt like a small gesture of intimacy. He was acknowledging the connection that was forming between us, however complicated it might be.
“I’m James Rossi, financial analyst at Berkley Williams. I’m twenty-seven. I grew up on the Upper East Side, but my father’s family is from Brooklyn. They run a pizzeria that has been passed down from my grandparents and is in dire need of an overhaul into the twenty-first century. And I am the luckiest man in this room right now to be dining with you.”
My heart thudded heavily against my ribs, each beat erratic and wild, as if it were trying to escape. James’s gaze burned into me like molten lava, and I grabbed my glass of wine, the chill of it a welcome contrast to the heat rising in my cheeks.
“I’m Hallie Woods, column writer forSophisticate. I’m twenty-five and I grew up in a small town in Ohio where my parents and younger sister still live. I currently live inthe West Village with my best friend Roxie, in an apartment that’s probably the size of the shoe closets of some of the other diners in here.”
I didn’t dare add that IknewI was the luckiest girl in the room tonight. Not only because I was living out my dream of eating at a place like this, but because James Rossi was undoubtedly the hottest man in the room. He was the hottest man in most rooms, to be honest.
“With that settled,” James mused, reopening his menu as the waiter approached to take our orders. “You have a sampler on the menu. A six-course tasting menu? That way we can get a flavor of every item?”
“Yes, sir.” The waiter nodded his head. “Is that what you would like? It would most definitely feed two.”
“Let’s do that. I know we’d like the fullCrepitioexperience.”
My mouth ran dry, my throat tightening as I scanned what James had ordered. In a hushed tone, I leaned in closer, trying to make sure the waiter couldn’t hear. “But there’s no price. James, when there’s no price, that means it’s out of the range of my wallet.”
“Who says you’re paying, Hal?”
Once again, there it was—that nickname. I had initially wanted to despise it, to despise him for uttering it. However, whenever he flashed that silly half smile at me, I forgot about hating him altogether.
13
James
Dining with Hallie Woods was a completely new experience. It was almost like I’d never trulyenjoyedmy food until I shared a meal with her. She savored every bite. The way she talked about palates and flavors reminded me of how I talked about different financial markets. It was electrifying even getting to witness it, and I knew she was more than deserving of the food critic position atSophisticate—finance bro article be damned. Not to mention the little moan she let out when she truly loved the taste of a dish. I can’t lie, it left me more than a little turned on.
“What are you doing?” Hallie looked at me like I’d lost my mind between the filet mignon and the gelato as I took a picture of her staring at her dessert like she was in love. Was it possible to be jealous of gelato?
“Memorializing this moment for you.” I checked the picture to confirm that she did, in fact, look like she was glowing even through the camera lens. “You know, for your blog? You haven’t posted this week.”
Hallie regarded me. “You’ve looked at my blog?”
Fuck.
I hesitated, suddenly feeling heat rise to my cheeks as I fumbled for an excuse. “Well …” I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, before letting out a long sigh. I’d alreadydug myself the hole, might as well jump into it. There was no point in denying it now. But I could at least save some of my dignity. “Of course I looked at your blog. I looked up your work for when you cover my family’s restaurant.”
Her lips curled into a sly smile, her eyes sparkling with satisfaction as she saw right through me. “Sure, if you say so,” she teased, her voice light but with a mischievous edge.
