Page 28 of Resisting the Grump

“Have fun,” she said. “No doubt he’ll take you somewhere fab.”

But it was too little too late, and when I opened the door to leave, things only got worse. Because there was an offering on my doormat that clearly wasn’t the package I ordered on Amazon. Nor was it, as I admittedly feared, crap. Not that that would’ve been much worse.

Because there, in a neat little coil, was a clearly used dog leash, and as I swallowed my anger, the thought occurred to me that maybe Grace wasn’t the only person who thought I should rein it in.

S I X T E E N

- Oliver -

My chest tightened when I saw her sauntering up the sidewalk, the frilly bottom of her short green dress swinging just above her knee. She seemed more beautiful every time I saw her, and while there wasn’t much that rattled me, an uncomfortable pressure weighed on my shoulders as reality sank in. I liked this woman. I wanted to show her a good time. I wanted her to like me back.

A nauseating concoction of hope and hormones swirled through me as I greeted her, my eyes appreciating her body in the way my hands couldn’t. After all, I’d promised to be a gentleman, and if there was one thing I knew for sure, it was that I wanted to keep my promises to her. Not just because I knew I’d regret it if I didn’t, but because she deserved that. That, and so much more.

Granted, people said yes to me all the time, mostly out of fear or sycophancy, but her yes felt lucky, generous, and enlivening. I couldn’t recall the last time I felt so struck by a sense of gratitude.

“Hi,” she said, eyeing me like I was a warm brownie. Perhaps that was a poor analogy, but I didn’t know her well enough yet to guess what lit her up. All I knew was that I was determined to find out, determined to discover what made her caramel eyes flicker.

“You look positively moreish,” I said, cocking my head in the direction we were headed.

“Why thank you,” she said, her eyes bending into little crescents at my—hopefully correct—use of the word she’d taught me. “I felt the same about the menu you sent me. My mouth was watering just looking at it.”

“I know the feeling,” I said, my appetites surging as my eyes fell from her skinny gold earrings down the delicate column of her neck.

She was silent for a few seconds, and I fought the urge to force conversation for as long as I could. “Everything good?”

“Yeah,” she said, glancing my way. “Great. I’m just… hungry.”

I hoped it was the truth. It would be a shame if she was having second thoughts when I’d been sincerely looking forward to this, least of all because it had been months since I’d asked a woman out. After Raven and I broke up, I tried to date, but I wasn’t exactly emotionally available. I was using sex as a distraction. As medicine. As an escape. When I realized how unfair that was, I stopped, deciding it was better for everyone if I slept alone until I met someone I felt a real spark with. “We won’t waste any time ordering then.” I reached over and set a hand on her lower back, leading her down the next narrow alley we came to.

“You didn’t tell me it was a hidden gem,” she said, her eyes scanning the tagging on the brick walls on both sides of us before straying towards the unassuming sign for Chez Mimi’s up ahead. “You come here a lot?”

“I come here on special occasions,” I said, opening the door for her.

She stepped inside and her eyes doubled in size as she took in the impressive space, which was decorated to look like a countryside French restaurant. Soft yellow furnishings were enlivened by poppy-colored accents, both of which lent an unexpectedly cozy atmosphere that contrasted sharply with the ugly alley we rambled up to get there.

“Bonsoir, Mr. Harrington,” the hostess said when we arrived before welcoming Avery with a warm smile.

The thought crossed my mind that my next-door neighbor could learn a thing or two from her. “Bonsoir.”

She led us to my usual table, which looked even more inviting thanks to the extra chair, and I pulled it out for Avery while the hostess set skinny menus across each place setting.

Avery thanked me and scooted closer to the table while I took my seat.

“The specials today,” Natalie said, her lips puckering to support her French accent. “Are the filet de turbot and the filet de boeuf chateaubriand. The soup du jour is lobster bisque.”

“Would you bring a double portion of my usual appetizer for us to enjoy while we peruse the menu?” I asked.

“Of course,” she said. “I’ll put your order in right away and return in a few minutes.”

I thanked her with a nod and turned my attention to Avery.

“I’m surprised they didn’t roll out a red carpet, Mr. Harrington,” she said teasingly.

“They offered, but I’d rather you were impressed by the food.”

“What’s your regular appetizer?” she asked, dropping her eyes to the narrow menu.

“I should’ve warned you,” I confessed. “My job’s made me a fussy eater.”

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