Page 64 of The Right Garza
Small, intimate, cozy.
It’s perfect.
As we’re shown to one of the plush booths with Trent’s hand at the small of my back, I glance around and notice that almost all of the patrons are coupled up. The only solo customers I see are two older men by the bar, one seated on a stool on one end, and the other standing slouched on the opposite end.
Once we’re settled in and given menus, I lean in and ask Trent, “So, I’m noticing it’s all lovers here. Is this where married men bring their mistresses?”
“Maybe,” he says, his eyes all over my face. “It’s owned by a friend. Open twice a week and is meant for couples only. Membership only.”
“Hmm. You have a membership to a couples speakeasy,” I muse. “I’m guessing this is where you bring all your women to seduce them? Wine and dine. You must be popular around here.”
His lip twitches. “This is the second time I’ve been here. The first time was for an important meeting with the owner, Tor, and myself.Business related. After a job well done, he gave us free memberships.”
“Oh,” I say quietly, though not ashamed of my assumptions.
Leaning in, he presses the pad of his thumb to my chin and drags it slightly so my lower lip separates from the upper. “That was almost two years ago, and I’ve never used my membership until now because I was waiting to bringyouhere.” He drops his hand. “In fact, I’ve never taken anyone on a dateanywhere. I’ve been waiting on you, Lexi.”
I don’t believe him. “What about that night in Vegas, at Bar 9. You—”
“Met her for a quick drink and a hook up. Except that once I saw you, it was over before it could start. Had a drink with her out of courtesy then sent her home. And I’ve thought of nothing but you since.”
It’s pathetic how hard my heart is pounding right now.
“We—” My words snag on a hitch. I clear my throat. “Butweare not a couple.”
“We’re something.”
I hold his gaze as he holds mine, and tentatively, I agree, “We’re something.”
The server interrupts us with fresh garlic bread, butter, cubed cheese, and water, then asks what we would like to order. The menu is strictly fine dining, but the only thing I’m really hungry for right now is sex, so I close my menu and tell Trent, “Order for me.”
One eyebrow kicks up at this, as though the request took him by surprise. Nonetheless, he obliges. Soup Du Jour for appetizer, and for the main, Grilled Rack of Lamb for himself and Pan Seared Citrus Scallops for me.
I’m a seafood junkie and he knows it.
“Anything to drink?” the tuxedoed server asks.
“Gin and tonic for her, an IPA for me.”
After the server leaves, I look him over for several lingering beats, as if seeing him for the first time, then, softly, I say, “I’m sorry.”
He’d been taking a sip of water but pauses to slide me a glance. “For?”
“Torin,” I clarify. “I didn’t know…”
His gaze flicks away, and he resumes taking a sip of water, and then another before setting the glass down and bringing his attention back to me. “And if you’d known?”
“I…” My shoulders lift then fall jerkily. “I don’t know.”
“That’s why it’s not worth talking about.” His tone is dismissive, with a mild hint of irritation. “The truth about Maggie and me was meant to assuage whatever ‘girl code’ guilt you might’ve been feeling. Nothing else.”
“But I—”
“Lexi, you and Tor dated, it happened, I don’t give a fuck,” he cuts me off. “I knew it wasn’t gonna last. Knew you’d be mine no matter how long it took. So no, none of that other shit matters.”
He knew it wasn’t going to last? That I would be his? How presumptuous. How utterly arrogant. “But I’mnotyours,though,” I point out.
His gaze singes with steely determination as he repeats, “No matter how long it takes.”
