Page 54 of Craving Cooper

“Y—You look beautiful.”

There’s something in his eyes… a hunger I’ve never seen before, and I struggle not to moan out loud as he takes my hand, pausing while I close my door, and then leads me to the stairs.

Once we’re on Main Street, we only have to walk a few yards to the French restaurant, but I’m surprised when he doesn’t stop.

“We’re not eating here?” I say, looking up at him, and he turns and smiles down at me.

“I couldn’t get a reservation, so I booked a table at the hotel. I hope that’s okay?”

“That’s fine,” I say, nodding my head, and we continue on our way. A few cars pass us, but otherwise the town seems quiet, other than the gym, which is still open, the lights glaring out through the frosted windows. “Is that somewhere you spend a lot of time?” I ask as we pass by.

“The gym?” Cooper says, looking down at me with a frown on his face.

“Yeah.”

“No. It used to be owned by Mitch Bradshaw. It’s the last place I’d wanna be seen… but what would make you think I’d go there?”

“Oh… I don’t know…” I say, glancing at the way his suit fits to his muscular chest and arms. He clearly notices and smiles, and I have to smile back, neither of us even remotely embarrassed, I’m pleased to say.

I find him attractive – more than attractive – and I don’t see the harm in letting him know.

Cooper leads me through the hotel parking lot to a set of steps that take us up to a wide entrance. Inside, there’s a definite country vibe going on, although it couldn’t be called old-fashioned in here.

The bar is straight ahead and seems to be busy, but Cooper guides me to our left, toward the rear of the hotel, and through a set of double doors into an enormous dining room. Despite its size, it’s still quite intimate, the tables spaced well apart, and the dimmed lighting and candles making it feel very romantic.

“Good evening, sir.” A man in a bow tie and black suit smiles at us, nodding his head.

“I booked a table earlier,” Cooper says.

“Ah, yes…” The man doesn’t even bother to check, and just waves his arm and steps away, making it clear we’re supposed to follow. Cooper keeps hold of my hand, and I admire his broad shoulders as we make our way right to the far side of the room, to a table by the window, overlooking a wide terrace.

“This is lovely,” I say, glancing out to the hills in the distance, only just visible now in the murky evening light.

“It is,” Cooper says, holding my chair.

The man waits while Cooper sits, and then straightens the silverware, which looked okay to me, before he leans in slightly.

“Liliana will be your waitress for tonight,” he says, and then he smiles. “She’s new, so be gentle with her.”

Cooper glances up, smiling, and nods his head before he looks back at me, the man disappearing toward the front of the restaurant again. There are menus on the table in front of us, but neither of us touches them. Cooper just stares at me, his head tilted to one side, until self-consciousness gets the better of me and I have to ask, “Is there something wrong?”

He coughs, shaking his head, and says, “No. Sorry. I just… I’m just really glad you’re here.”

I can’t help smiling, and he smiles back. There’s an atmosphere between us again, but it’s not like it was this morning. Sure, it’s tense, but in a good way. I like it, and I think Cooper does too.

“Shall we order?” he says, and I nod my head, both of us picking up our menus.

As I open it, I feel a little overwhelmed, recalling how I felt when I looked at the restaurant menu on Brady’s phone. That was easier than this, though. There were tick boxes and didn’t seem to be as many options. It was laid out differently, too. I feel unsure what to look at first, and before I make a fool of myself, I lower it again, which gets Cooper’s attention.

“I’ve never eaten anywhere like this before,” I confess. “I’ve never been anywhere that had a head waiter, or a maitre d’, or whatever that man should be called.”

Cooper smiles. “Most of the time, he’s called Chester. He owns this place, along with his wife, and if you ever come here for breakfast, you’ll find him dressed very differently.”

“Really?”

“Yeah,” he says. “The bow tie and head waiter act are all part of the show.”

“I see… and do you often come here for breakfast?” I ask, teasing him.

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