Page 46 of No One Else
It’s not a far drive to where I’m taking her for dinner, and when we pull into Indigo, the classiest restaurant I know of in town, she raises her brows in surprise.
“Well, Mister Frugalistic, this is quite a treat,” she says slyly.
“You’re worth it,” I tell her simply. Sure, just the thought of the bill is making me sweat, but I want to start things out right and show her how much she means to me.
“I’m flattered,” she murmurs as I open her door for her and take her hand, leading her inside.
She stops dead in her tracks as soon as we approach the maitre d’, though. I follow her line of sight, stiffening myself when I spot Carter at a table not far away with none other than Olivia sitting opposite him. She has her hand stretched across the table, lightly brushing his knuckles. Her smile is flirtatious, her body angled forward so her cleavage is on display, and it’s obvious that’s exactly where Carter’s looking.
My gaze immediately goes back to Natalie, who’s staring at the two of them, her jaw set, fingers gripping the strap of her purse tightly. I set my hand on her lower back and she startles, looking over at me like she just remembered I was there.
“Will you be dining with us tonight?” the maitre d’ asks in a British accent about as phony as the one I did last week.
“No, we’ve had a change of plans.” I steer her toward the door and she goes without complaint as we step back outside. A breeze blows past, bringing with it the threat of colder weather again, but for now it feels nice out. Brisk, but not too chilly.
She slumps down on the bench just beyond the doors, pushing her hair off her face. “I’m sorry,” she sighs.
“How would you have known he’d be here?” I ask, sitting down next to her. “You didn’t even know where we were going.”
She’s silent, staring down at her purse on her lap, twisting the strap around her fingers.
“Are you over him?” I ask quietly, needing to understand the why behind her reaction in there.
She looks over at me, astonished. “Yes. God, yes.” She blows out a breath, shaking her head. “I just can’t believe he would ruin this night for me. I haven’t had any contact with him in two months and then he happens to be there the first time I go on a date? And with Olivia, no less? What are the chances?”
I take her hand in mine, threading our fingers together. “He didn’t ruin it. Let me take you somewhere else. Somewhere no ex-boyfriends will be. Unless you’ve got any others hiding in the woodwork,” I tease, trying to get her to smile.
She does, squeezing my hand softly. “That sounds wonderful.”
I guide her back to the SUV and as I put the key in the ignition, I make a split second decision about where to take her. I drive over closer to my house and pull into the little shopping plaza I was once intimately familiar with.
“El Restaurante,” she reads off the sign in front of where we’re parked. “The Restaurant?”
“Yeah, they’re not big on pretension here.” I open her door again, taking her hand as she steps down. “Or originality,” I laugh. “But the food is delicious.”
As we make our way to the door I tell her, “I actually worked here in high school.”
“You did?” she grins.
“Yep. You’re looking at the best damn busboy this place has ever seen.”
I hold open the restaurant door for her, my eyes bouncing around, noticing everything different. The hostess stand has been moved a few feet to the right, that god-awful sombrero that used to hang on the wall is gone, and strands of lights are now strung along the tops of the walls giving off a soft glow. The changes are for the better. The reddish brown tile throughout the place, the red booths and black tables, as well as the man at the podium look the same, though.
“Evan,” Miguel says warmly with his thick accent, opening his arms wide. “Are you here to eat with us tonight?” He claps me on the back, a few more strands of gray running through his dark hair than I remember, but his smile is still as genuine as ever.
“Yeah. We’d love a booth if you have one.”
“Of course, of course,” he beams. “And you have a beautiful woman with you too. I will give you our most romantic table.” He grabs menus and leads us to the back booth, the one most secluded from everyone else. “This man,” he says to Natalie, setting his hand on my shoulder, “is a good one. Hard worker, trustworthy, never complained. I was sorry to see him go.”
She turns her attention to me, smiling. “I couldn’t agree more.”
My neck is hot all of a sudden, and I have to fight to resist the urge to scratch it.
He clasps his hands together, stepping back. “I will leave you two alone now. Enjoy your meal. Chips and salsa are on the house.”
Natalie raises her brows. “Oh, fancy. You’ve got some pull here.”
“What can I say? I’ve got connections.”
