Page 25 of The Playboy and the Waitress

I drive into a part of Ashland I have never been to before and slow down as I look around at all the million-dollar homes. Damn, they are all beautiful, but I can’t imagine what it would cost to keep something like it up. A place like that would work me to death. I slowly pull up to what looks like an extremely expensive apartment complex, double-checking the address he gave me.

Seeing his car, I park beside it, noticing immediately how out of place my glow monster looks with all the other high-dollar vehicles parked around her. I pat her dash, “Don’t let all these fancy rollers intimidate you, girl, they all get their oil changed the same way you do.”

I no more than open the car door when I see Dage standing in the doorway of his house, apartment, condo whatever you wanna call it. Either way, it has zero personality. But the smile on his face makes my heart flutter.

Dage comes down the steps barefooted. “Hey, pretty girl…you lost in the city?”

“Yep, I believe I am.”

He grabs me as soon as I'm within reach, pulling me close. “You are a sight for sore eyes. I have missed you this week.”

“Have you now?”

“I was going to run out and surprise you with pizzas yesterday, but I got held up at work. The contractors are having some problems with this new addition, and I swear it’s like I have to walk them through each step. Come on in, it’s almost done.”

“You will be happy to know that I thought about bringing a bottle of my famous wine. But I refrained from it because I don’t believe you enjoy the finer things in life as I do. What are you fixing me? Oh, and thank you for the flowers… they were amazing, and over the top, all the girls were envious.”

“I’m glad they were a hit, and you are more than welcome. I can’t take all the credit, it was Brutus’ idea since we were both in trouble. And I'm fixing one of my favorite meals. Cooking is not one of my strong points, but I do know how to fix a few things, mostly due to watching the chefs in our kitchens at work.”

I walk in the door and instantly smell lasagna. “Oh, I love anything pasta, good choice.”

“Make yourself at home, I just have one more thing to fix and then it should all be ready.”

“You need some help?”

“Nope, look around. I’ll just be a minute.”

The place is a true bachelor's pad. There is a huge TV hanging on one wall, but other than that there isn’t a single picture, pillow, or throw in sight. What few pieces of furniture are in his living room seem very nice, but they also scream uncomfortable. I'm not sure if they have ever been sat on.

“You’re not here much are you?” I sorta yell out.

“It’s that obvious huh? I just took the wrapper off the salt and pepper shakers a few minutes ago. I think this is the first time I have ever used the kitchen for more than a snack. If it weren’t for my suits, I probably wouldn’t have unpacked either. Some of my casual clothes are still in the suitcases in the closet.”

Following his voice into the kitchen, I see him struggling to get the large pan out of the oven. He practically throws it on the countertop as he flings the dish towel down shaking his now burnt hand. I grab his hand and turn the water on in the sink, sticking it under the cool water quickly. “You know they make these glove things that you can buy at the store that will keep you from doing this to yourself.”

“Anyone can do it that way. Now, I just have a reason to have you kiss it and make it better.”

“Heck, I would have done that anyway, you didn’t have to go disfigure yourself. Go sit down and let me finish this.”

He walks over to an island in the middle of the kitchen, pulling a stool out, still cradling his hand. I start to rummage through drawers looking for something to put ice in for his hand when I hear a buzzer go off.

“Are you expecting anyone else?”

“No, give me a second to get rid of whoever it is.”

Within seconds it all goes to hell when I hear a woman’s voice coming through the house towards me.

“Mom, this is not a good time.”

“With you it never is, if you had answered your phone in the last few weeks you wouldn’t have to worry about me showing up like this now, would you? And who is driving that abomination out there, you should call the superintendent and complain. That looks horrible in front of your house. Now, invite your mother for dinner and we can talk about why you stood up the last three girls I wanted you to meet.”

She skids to a stop when she sees me standing in the middle of the kitchen with a spatula in my hand. “Oh, Dage, I didn’t realize you’d hired a cook. You're free to go, dear, I can handle whatever is left.”

Here stands a woman of refinement and older beauty, of course, she is his mother. Her light silver hair is styled gracefully on top of her head, as a long lacy dress flows around her slender yet shapely form, a string of pearls around her neck completes her look, and here I stand looking like a bum. I know, I have this deer in the headlights look on my face, because I have no idea what to say to that.

“Mom, how dare you come into my home and make any assumptions about who is here? This is Jenna, she is my girlfriend, not my damn cook.”

His mother would be an excellent poker player because her facial features never change as she looks me up and down.

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