Trick or Treat (Silver Spoon Connections)

3. Tony

Chapter 3

Tony

The golden morning light streaming through my bedroom window mocks me, and I give up trying to sleep at the ass crack of dawn. Sleep was elusive last night with my thoughts running wild about Kat.

Every single thing about her calls to me. Last night, her laugh lit up the entire bar while that playful glint in her eyes stole my goddamn heart. My little kitty wove her spell of magic around me, and I don’t ever want to escape from it.

Stretching, I drag myself out of bed, mentally prepping for everything I have to get done before my date with Kat. First things first, though. I need a shower to clear the cobwebs of my restless night.

Standing under the hot spray, I can’t help but replay last night’s conversations, especially the part where she asked if I would take her to the speakeasy. I’m not one to get flustered since years in the mafia turned my nerves to steel, but there’s something about Kat that feels electrifyingly unpredictable.

After toweling off and throwing on a casual T-shirt and jeans, I head to the kitchen and brew a strong pot of coffee. As the aroma fills the air, I feel more awake and focused. I’ve got plans to make, and with a little caffeine boost, I’m ready to tackle them head-on.

In between sips, I grab my phone and place an order for flowers. A bouquet of vibrant autumn blooms should bring a smile to her face, so I order sunflowers, burgundy dahlias, and a hint of greenery that captures both the warmth and mischief of the season. I make sure the card is appropriately flirty with just a hint of my determination.

With a satisfied nod, I move on to the next item on my list. I dial Romi, my ever-dependable bar manager. If anyone can help orchestrate an evening to remember, it’s her. As the phone rings, I mentally map out what the speakeasy will look like for our private dinner. Dim lighting, a soft jazz playlist, and an enchanted menu should do the trick.

Romi picks up on the third ring, sounding far more awake than I feel. “Morning, big bad boss! What’s up?”

“I need a favor.” It’s not really a favor, but I know you catch more bees with honey than vinegar. “Could you make sure Scared Shotless is prepped for a private dinner tonight? Everything top-notch and special.”

There’s a pause, and I can practically hear the wheels turning in her head. “This for the Catwoman from last night?” she asks, a teasing lilt in her voice. “Shane already told me you seemed pretty taken with her.” Goddamn. The gossip in this town is legendary. If you fart in church on Sunday morning, the entire town knows by the time you get to the Skillet Skeleton Diner for Sunday brunch.

I chuckle, glancing out the window at the already-lively town gearing up for another day of perpetual Halloween. “I plead the fifth.” It’s a way of life for me. “Think you can work your magic?”

“Consider it done.” She chuckles. “I’ll make sure it’s perfect. What are you thinking for the menu?”

“Something memorable,” I reply, imagining a table laden with delicious treats. “Maybe start with pumpkin soup and some kind of seasonal salad. Then, something fun, maybe themed tapas, and finish up with a killer dessert. Just make it feel like it’s woven with Halloween charm.”

“You’ve got it,” Romi says, and her enthusiasm echoes through the line. “I’ll even throw in a few surprises to keep things interesting. Don’t worry, we’ll dazzle her.”

We hang up, and with the preparations in capable hands, I take a moment to savor my coffee. I feel a buzz of anticipation as I think about the evening ahead. There’s a sense of new possibilities that makes my old routine seem far behind me. It’s refreshing, this dive into the unknown, driven by something as simple and complex as a potential romance.

I spend the bulk of the morning going over some bar logistics and checking in with the suppliers for tonight's special stock. As I handle the day-to-day shenanigans of owning and running a bar, there’s an undeniable thrill that keeps nudging at the edge of my mind—an eagerness for the hours to pass so I can see Kat again.

By midday, I stroll down to the bar, taking in the sights and sounds of Midnight Falls in daylight. The decorations feel less haunted now and more nostalgic. There are several nods and waves from the usual patrons and townsfolk who take part in maintaining this year-round whimsy.

When I arrive at Trick or Treat, Romi greets me with a knowing smile. “Everything’s set for tonight,” she assures, handing me a clipboard with the evening’s plans and supply lists. “You’re going to knock her off her feet.”

“Good,” I say, surveying the main floor. The bar’s already taking on its nightly glow as staff weave between tables, putting final touches on the décor. “I appreciate this.”

“Don’t worry about it.” She waves a hand dismissively. “Seeing you actually excited about someone makes this worth the extra effort.”

Her words linger as I go through the afternoon’s motions. My anticipation grows more palpable. This isn’t just about seducing someone over a fancy dinner. These feelings coursing through me are way the fuck more than I’ve allowed myself to ever feel. Living in the world I left behind taught me vulnerability is a luxury you can’t afford, but here, now, it feels like exactly what I can’t live without.

Hours later, as the sun dips below the horizon, blanketing the town in its signature eerie twilight, I find myself checking all the preps one last time. The speakeasy concealed beneath Trick or Treat is glowing softly with candlelight, casting shadows that dance playfully across the walls. The stage is set, and everything’s as perfect as I could hope for. All that’s missing now is Kat’s infectious laughter lighting up the room.

As the clock edges closer to our agreed time, butterflies flutter unexpectedly in my stomach. What the fuck? I wipe a small bead of sweat from my forehead and realize I’m antsy about a woman for the first goddamn time in my life.

I wanted to pick her up for our date, but my stubborn little kitty refused, whispering something about preserving the mystery and making her dramatic entrance. So, here I am, standing at the foot of the stairs leading down to Scared Shotless, feeling like a teenager waiting for his prom date.

Romi and the team outdid themselves in preparing the VIP room. Shadows from flickering candles dance along the rustic stone walls, and soft jazz plays low and smooth, creating a sultry atmosphere. The main table underneath the antique crystal chandelier is set with black linen placemats, and the centerpiece of our private table is an elegant arrangement of sunflowers and deep red dahlias with a gold skull tucked away inside it.

It’s all perfect. Perfect and waiting. Just like me. It feels like every tick of the clock echoes through the room, my anticipation building with each passing moment until the anxiety and excitement intertwine into something electric.

I check my watch for what has to be the tenth time in about five minutes, then look up at the sound of footsteps approaching. It’s only one of the servers passing through, but my heart leaps all the same, and I realize I have turned into a pussy-whipped moron just like Marco did when he met Tabitha.

Finally, I hear Romi’s heels clicking on the stone steps and realize she’s bringing my kitty to me. I take a moment, my heart doing a little drum roll of its own, as I prepare for her appearance, feeling a thrill unlike anything I’ve experienced in years.

And then she walks in. Holy hell. I nearly swallow my tongue.

Kat descends the stairs, each step deliberate and graceful, and I’m pretty sure the world grinds and shudders to a stop. She’s wearing a figure-hugging red dress that clings to all her luscious curves. Black heels click softly against the floor as I stare at her bare legs and forget how to breathe.

Her hair is artfully pulled up in a fancy twist that leaves a few tendrils loose to brush the nape of her neck. The very sight is enough to make any man want to forget everything else and focus solely on her. When I notice her candy apple red lips, I have this overwhelming urge to kiss the lipstick off, to see if it tastes as sweet as it looks.

“Wow,” I manage to say when she reaches the bottom of the stairs, flashing her my best attempt at a casual smile as all my polished sophistication flies right out the goddamn window. “You look stunning.”

She gives me a soft laugh, a sound as delightful as ever. “Thank you. You look pretty good, too.”

“Thank you, kitty.” I lean over and place a soft kiss on the vein pounding at the base of her elegant throat. “Why don’t we have a seat?”

I take her silky hand in mine and lead her over to the table. After I pull out her chair, she sinks into the buttery soft leather. Staring down at this curvy kitty, I feel a strange sense of rightness wash over me like everything is exactly where it should be in the universe tonight.

We settle in, the soft jazz wrapping around us like a warm embrace, and I watch as she takes in every detail, her gaze moving from the flickering candles to the intimate coziness of the room.

The waiter brings us each a glass of wine and quickly disappears.

“So, how did you even end up here in Midnight Falls?” Kat asks, reaching for her glass. “You seem way more suited to a city like New York or LA, not a small Halloween-loving Texas town.”

“It does sound odd when you put it like that,” I concede, smiling at her curiosity. “Believe it or not, after all those years in Vegas, I needed something different, something that felt a little magical and, sure, quieter.”

“Vegas? You’re serious?” She leans forward, eyes twinkling with intrigue. “Now that’s a story I’ve got to hear.”

I chuckle, aware I need to tread carefully. While I want to lay all my cards on the table, the entire unvarnished truth might be a little too much for our first date. “Let’s just say I was involved in a world that had a lot of excitement, but maybe not the healthiest type. I got the chance to turn the page and start fresh and jumped on it. Midnight Falls gave me that opportunity with its charm and peculiar traditions.” I pause, meeting her gaze meaningfully. “Plus, a gorgeous little kitty walked into my bar and turned my world on its ear.”

“Oh.” She bites her bottom lip, blushing. She breaks eye contact and changes the direction of our conversation. “This place is really incredible.”

“I’m glad you approve.” While the staff sets up our dinner, soft music plays in the background, and I decide I need to feel her soft curves pressed against my body. Now.

Taking her soft hand in mine, I lead her over to the private dance floor and pull her against my body.