“Henny won’t care,” he said. He’d leaned closer, the words landing against my lips with the warmth of his breath.
“Just not yet,” I begged.
“Tomorrow?” he asked.
A laugh bubbled out of me, and I opened my eyes. “Why tomorrow?”
“A birthday present.”
Wesley grinned, like he knew I couldn’t say no to him. I didn’t want to say no to him. But I didn’t want to lose him either.
“Let’s see how it goes,” I offered.
He looked amused at my denials, but I could tell he wasn’t going to push me. At least not in that moment.
“Fine.” He kissed the tip of my nose then dramatically flung himself back toward the passenger side of the car. “Let’s just focus on right now for now.”
“I can do that,” I promised him.
Wesley tapped my thigh, his fingers drumming against the phone in my pocket.
“Your best kept secret is getting hungry,” he said with a smirk. “And you owe me at least two Shirley Temples tonight.”
I gave him a weak laugh, fishing my phone out of my pocket to look up some restaurants that were more than fifteen miles away in any direction.
“Is that so?”
“Grayson said to take care of me tonight.” Wesley’s voice dipped low, sending a spark ofsomethingstraight into my stomach. “Dinner is a good start.”
CHAPTERTWENTY-THREE
Wesley
Colin droveus to a small Italian restaurant tucked into the canyon somewhere outside Malibu. I didn’t know my way around the city well enough anyway, and even though he’d told me the location, I’d immediately forgotten it. I’d have to get better about things like that, though, because knowing cool and secret restaurant spots felt like something a doorman should know, and I wanted to be a good one. I couldn’t just give people a name of the place and hope for the best.
Bella Capri was really cute and quaint with only had half a dozen tables, half of which were occupied. The hostess walked us to one of the empty ones, beside a giant cutout in the wall that opened onto a small brick courtyard with a bubbling fountain in the middle. There were market lights strung up and the whole vibe of the place was amazing.
And romantic.
It was romantic.
We took our seats, and while I couldn’t stop staring at the garden, Colin couldn’t stop staring at me. Nervously, I glanced toward him and plucked at the collar of my shirt.
“Is it too much?” I asked.
He shook his head.
“I told Grayson it was too much.”
There was a taper candle in the centerpiece, halfway burned down. He reached around it, extending his hand toward me, palm up. “It’s not.”
I smiled, and Colin smiled back, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
“I’m shaken up about running into Miles earlier.”
Before I could respond, the waiter came to the table and set down two glasses of wine.
