Page 200 of Double Daddies
“You are stunning,” Ezra says, his voice thick with desire as he hands her the bouquet of lilies we picked up along the way. I nod in agreement, my heart pounding in my chest. “Absolutely,” I manage to say, my mouth suddenly dry.
Her blush deepens. “Thank you,” she whispers, her eyes flicking between us. She brings the flowers up to her nose and closes her eyes. “These are beautiful. You didn’t have to.”
“Nonsense. We wanted to,” I insist.
“So, where to tonight?”
“I thought we’d start with dinner,” Ezra says, gesturing to the car. “There's a great Italian place downtown that we love. How does that sound?”
“Perfect,” she says with a shy smile.
We escort her to the car, then I grab her hand as she slides into the back seat. Ezra walks around to the other side as I take a seat beside Wren. His hand brushes against her thigh, and I watch as a shiver runs through her as her eyes dart to his.
I lean forward, my eyes locked on hers. “We’re going to have a great time tonight,” I murmur, my voice low and husky. “Just relax and let us take care of you.”
Wren shudders as a hesitant smile crosses her face. The ride to the restaurant is silent. It's not like an awkward silence, but it seems as if she’s in her head. I want to be in her head. I want to know everything about her. What makes her happy, what her hopes and dreams are. What makes her tick, and how I can makeher scream my name. Jacobson hasn’t gotten back with us but it’s not surprising since we didn’t give him much to go on.
Cuore d’Italiais packed when we arrive, but the hostess recognizes us immediately. She leads us to a secluded table in the back, and we settle into our seats.
Wren is sandwiched between us as her body heat mingles with my own. I can feel the warmth of her, and it takes all my self-control not to run my hands over her soft curves.
Ezra takes her hand in his, his thumb stroking her knuckles. “What are you in the mood for, Wren?” he asks, his voice a low purr.
She swallows hard, her eyes darting between us. “I’m not sure,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “Why don't you order for me?”
“Are you sure?” I ask, my hand resting on her knee. “We want you to be comfortable.” She bites her lip and nods, her cheeks flushing as the server approaches.
I wave the menu away. “We’ll have the chef’s special and a bottle of your best red wine, please.”
“Right away, Mr. St. James,” the server says, hurrying off.
Wren’s eyes widen as she takes in the lavish surroundings, the crystal chandeliers sparkling overhead. “This place is insane,” she murmurs, her gaze lingering on the couples around us as she takes a deep breath. “I’ve never been anywhere so fancy.”
“It’s one of our favorite spots in the city. The owner is from Italy, so the food is authentic,” I mention.
“So, you’re food snobs.” She laughs, her eyes alight with amusement.
“When it comes to Italian, yes, we are. We spent a majority of our lives in Italy, and life is too short to waste on a poor bowl of pasta,” Ez chimes in, draping his arm around Wren.
“Italy has always been on my list of places I want to visit someday,” she says wistfully, looking down at her hands lying in her lap.
There’s something about Wren that seems broken and I want nothing more than to piece her back together. I look over her head to Ezra and he nods, realizing the same thing.
“Here is your wine.” The server places the glasses down then opens the bottle and precedes to pour a small sip into mine. I swirl the liquid in the glass before tasting the sweet, off-dry Merlot. I nod my approval to the server and she begins filling our glasses.
“To new beginnings,” I announce, holding up my glass.
Wren’s eyes sparkle as she repeats my words. “To new beginnings.” We clink our glasses and all take a sip. The wine encompasses light hints of cherry and raspberry with whispers of cinnamon and cloves, adding a warming spice to the finish.
“It’s delicious,” she mentions, setting her glass down. “So, tell me more about you both.”
“Well, I’m the five minutes younger, more handsome version of Ezra,” I smirk, letting my dimples shine.
Ezra rolls his eyes. “We’re thirty-seven, own a tech company that we built from the ground up after we left the Army and we’re about to roll out a new software in an innovative app that integrates with wearables to provide real-time health tracking and predictive analytics for wellness.”
“Our mother died from an aneurysm and was alone. If she’d had this technology she might have survived,” I admit solemnly.
Wren’s eyes widen. “I’m so sorry.”
