Page 8 of Meant For Love

“It’s not a state secret, Zoey.” I pull out of the parking lot and into traffic.

“It’s not, but you got me my favorite bagel. How did you know?”

I think about lying to her and saying it was a good guess, but she might find out the truth, and then it’ll make me look like a creepy stalker, so I tell her, “You post about that sandwich every Saturday on your Instagram. You always get it after Pilates.” I don’t have to look at her to see her mouth is hanging open. “I figured it would be a nice treat.”

“That was,” she confirms, turning back in her seat to look in front of her. “That was very thoughtful.”

“My pleasure.” I zigzag through the traffic, heading toward my favorite sushi restaurant, knowing she loves sushi also. She looks out the window as we make our way there, making me more nervous than I have ever been. I’ve done million-dollar deals without breaking a sweat, but being with Zoey in my car, my hands are all clammy, and my mouth is dry.

I pull into the parking lot and turn off the car. She opens her backpack on the floor between her feet and grabs a black purse. “Is it okay to leave this in the car, or should I take it inside?”

“We are going to sit right there.” I point at the window of the small little sushi place. “The car will be in full view at all times.”

“So if someone comes around and smashes your window, you’ll throw your body at them to protect my laptop?”

I stare at her, trying not to burst out laughing. “Most definitely,” I assure her, turning my head to the side and secretly laughing while I reach for the door handle and open the door. I’m rounding the car when she gets out of her side. I take her in again, just like I did when she was walking down the plane's steps. Her pink pants are loose fitting and have elastic at the ankle, so they look comfortable and classy, with a tight white shirt that shows off her perfect fucking tits. Tits that if you didn’t know, you would think were fake, but I’ve memorized them since the first time I saw her in a bikini. It’s also because I’ve seen her in said bikini that I know that what is under her clothes is one million times better than her with clothes on. The jacket hides all the goodness that is under it.

We walk side by side toward the door, and I pull it open for her before she walks in and stands in the small entrance. This place has five tables, which are always taken at lunch and dinnertime. Since it’s almost dinner, only two tables are open.

“Take a seat.” A woman sticks her head out from the back between the bead curtain.

I wait for Zoey to walk toward the table in the middle of the window looking outside. She sits in one chair, and I sit in the chair facing her instead of beside her. She puts her purse on the chair there. The woman from the back comes out with a pitcher of water in one hand and two menus in the other. “Have you been here before?”

“It’s my go-to,” I tell her. “Usually, I pick it up and take it home or to the office. I don’t think I’ve ever actually eaten here.”

Zoey looks up at the woman with a smile when she puts the menus on the table between us as she fills two glasses of water before asking, “Sake?”

“Sure,” I say.

At the same time, Zoey says, “No.”

“No or yes?” The woman who couldn’t care less about our argument looks back and forth between us, and I’m sure she’s counting to ten before she gives up and walks away.

I look over at Zoey, who just stares at me. “Sure, one.” She holds her finger up, her nails square and perfectly manicured to a soft pink. The woman walks away from us, stopping at another table before I hear the sound of the beads as she steps into the back.

“What do you recommend?” she asks, looking down at the menu.

“I usually go with the chef’s creation,” I say, “the Dragon Komodo and the Moonlight.”

Her eyes roam the menu. “I’ll have the same, then.”

I don’t have a chance to say anything because the lady comes back with a little white-and-blue bottle with matching little glasses. She pours half in each glass before she grabs her pad. “What can I get you?” We order the same thing, and the woman nods before turning and walking to the back.

“So tell me about your company,” Zoey says, and I shake my head.

“Nope, we will get into all that tomorrow at the office.” I grab my glass of sake, holding it up. “For right now, I’ll toast to you coming to LA to meet with me.”

“Um.” She grabs her glass of sake and holds it up. “To coming to meet with you, and you eerily stalking my Instagram.”

I laugh, clinking my glass to hers before she takes a sip of the sake, and I follow suit. “I don’t eerily stalk your Instagram.” I put down my glass while she takes another sip and then licks her lips. I want to change seats and sit next to her, so I can pull her seat closer to mine and lean over and see if her lips taste like sake or heaven. Either way, I would win. “I was just observant.”

“I think that’s what stalkers usually say.” She shakes her head as she laughs. “It was a very nice thing for you to do.”

“It was my absolute pleasure.” I take a sip of water. “I’m not going to lie. I thought you would say no.”

She puts her hands on the table in front of her, folding them and almost leaning on the table. “Since we are being honest”—she sort of smiles—“I was going to say no, but?—”

“I don’t care.” I hold up my hand. “Whatever the but was, I don’t care. The only thing that matters is you are here, and we’ll be working together.”

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