Page 52 of Some Like It Hot

So instead, I gesture to the table that is designated for us, right by the windows. The lake is an inky blue-black expanse beyond the glass. Snow and ice cling to the edges of the shore and it’s stark and beautiful.

“Have a seat. Drink? They can make you anything you want.”

Aidan takes a seat and looks out at the view. “Wow. This is all incredible. Thanks, Simon. But you didn’t really have to do this.”

“Aren’t you worth it?” I ask, as I sit, genuinely curious. He’s rubbing his jaw now.

My question makes him drop his hand. It picks at his ego, which I assumed it would.

“Oh, I’m worth it.” He gives me a cocky smile. “I just don’t want you to think this is…transactional.”

That surprises me. I raise a brow. “Of course not. Financial disparity doesn’t make this transactional. I take it you’re not used to being treated?”

“Uh, no. I was raised in a traditional family with working-class values. When I date women, I pay for everything.”

“And when you’re with a man?” I flick my napkin open.

“I still pay if it’s a relationship. But I’ve only had one boyfriend. Mostly, I date men casually and we split the tab.”

“If it makes you feel better, you can split the bill with me.”

His face blanches.

I laugh. “I’m kidding. Just sit back, please, relax, and enjoy yourself. That’s all I want. Order whatever you want and let the man who has money he doesn’t deserve to have treat the man who, I’m certain, deserves everything he has. Unless you want to go somewhere else, which would be perfectly fine with me. I just want to spend time with you.”

It matters to me that he feels comfortable.

Yet I’m also turned on by the fact that he doesn’t care about money. That’s rare in my world. I’ve got plenty of people around me, both currently and in the past, who only want what I can give them. Whether it’s material items, exposure to my social circle, or clout in the company, a lot of people want something from me. Those are all transactional in one form or another.

But no one acknowledges or admits that.

That Aidan clearly needs nothing from me is very appealing.

Aidan hesitates, then he shakes his head. “No. This is perfect, thank you. I just want to get to know you, too.”

I gesture for the server to come over. “I’ll have a whiskey, neat.”

“Can I get a beer?” Aidan asks the server, who nods and lists what he has available.

Aidan orders a domestic beer, and I fully relax. Aidan is obviously confident in being himself.

“Are you from Chicago originally?” I ask him.

He nods. “Born and raised. Third generation firefighter. My grandfather, his two brothers, my uncle. All firefighters.”

“That’s incredible. What a legacy. Siblings?”

“I have a little brother and sister. Raised by a kick-ass single mom,” he says proudly. “Dad went to the store for milk when I was five and never came home.”

I wince. “Ouch.”

Aidan shrugs. “Fuck him. His loss. My mom is a nurse, and she did an amazing job raising us.”

“So taking care of others is a family trait.”

“I guess so.”

“And you have been the man of the house since you were five.” That explains a lot.

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