A Day in a Life

Chapter Twenty-Two

Saige

“ H ERE YOU GO , Mr. Vanilla,” I tease.

“Mr. Vanilla? What’s that supposed to mean?” His smile belies his words.

“You’re eating the same thing in a place that has some of the best restaurants in the United States. Everyone comes here for the seafood. Sorry, but that makes you vanilla.”

“You calling me plain?” he says with mock irritation.

“Oh, there’s nothing plain about you, Mr. Garrett. Except your taste buds.”

“Thought this was your bestseller?”

“It is. I’m just teasing. Sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. Nothing wrong with a little teasing.”

Elijah brings out the old me. I haven’t unleashed her in so long, I’m not sure I know who I am anymore. Why am I teasing him? I never tease the customers. I’m all business.

“Enjoy your meal.”

I walk away as quickly as I can.

Mr. Vanilla . Oh brother. I think that was my version of flirting when I’m feeling very unsure.

I need to remember the nightmare I had last night, the one that made me awaken covered in sweat. One moment Elijah was massaging my feet, and I was basking in pleasure. The next moment he was on top of me, his face an inch from mine as he said in a raspy voice, “If it’s pleasure you want, I can give it to you, sweetheart.”

I sat up so quickly, my head was swimming while my heart pounded in my chest.

It took me thirty minutes to calm down. That’s NOT what happened. At all. But I did put myself in a compromising position. Anything could have happened.

But it didn’t. Elijah was kind and understanding. I like him, even if I did behave like a porcupine in the beginning.

I’m not sure what will happen today, but I can’t wait to find out.

I don’t have to wait long. When I stop at Elijah’s table to check on him, he says, “Can I see you again tonight? I would love to spend more time with you.”

My face flashes with heat, and I wonder if I’m blushing with a cute pinkish tinge on my cheeks or if my entire face is an embarrassing fire-engine red.

“Okay.” My verbal skills are lacking.

“What time are you off tonight?” he asks with anticipation in his tone.

“Six. Much earlier than last night.” Oh my gosh. Duh.

“What do you feel like doing? I imagine you’ll be too tired to paint the town red.”

“True. Maybe just a quiet dinner for two?” I suggest.

“I’d like that.”

“Me too.”

Once again, we look into each other’s eyes for much too long, as though we’re both searching for something. I know what I’m looking for. Sincerity.

What’s he looking for?