Page 37 of Clueless Romeo

I hadn't seenor spoken to Roman over the past week. Other than a quick text with the location and time for my date with Nate, that had been it.

Whether by mutual avoidance or I'd just been lucky my own attempts to steer clear of him had worked, I had to admit I wished I'd talked to him before driving out to meet Nate for the first time.

Roman was the only person Icouldtalk to about it. He was also the only person whoknewwhere I was tonight and the one person I refused to ask for advice.

My heart hammered in my chest as I pulled into a parking space facing the upscale restaurant in downtown Atlanta. I was so not prepared for this.

The place wasn't where I'd have chosen to go. Not by a long shot.

The sun had set an hour ago, and I was surrounded by city lights glinting off posh vehicles driven by the rich and, in some cases, likely famous. My Jeep felt insanely out of place.

How well could you get to know someone when surrounded by pretentious people dabbing their mouths with expensive napkins and carrying on mundane conversations? It seemed like an obvious way to flash their money around and send out big-dick energy. Or maybe I was just looking for reasons to talk myself out of the date.

Roman was aware of my preference for chill environments, so I had no idea why he'd picked this spot. Unless he purposely wanted the date to fail, which was unlikely given how fast he'd tucked tail and run from the almost-kiss we shared. And for my part, I was determined to get him out of my head. Even if that meant stepping out of my comfort zone. There was also a chance I'd be recognized from when I'd played for the Hawthorne Pirates. In a way, this was an unofficial outing that could blow up in my face.

A long sigh flowed from my lips as I shifted the gear into park and watched through the wide windows well-dressed men and women, dimly lit by candlelight. The mixed stone facade of the building boasted clean lines and sharp edges, a modern design that screamedI can't afford this shit.

Knowing Nate was a former professional athlete, I'd hoped we would connect on other things. I still highly doubted anything would come of the night.

Better to just get it over with.

Squaring my shoulders, I popped open the door and slid out of the black leather seat. I grimaced at the uncomfortable fit of the dress slacks and long-sleeved dress shirt. And the shoes. Seriously, fuck these shoes. I was already dying to get home and change clothes.

For all his cocky claims about being able to read people and know exactly what they wanted—needed even—Roman had some explaining to do.

I considered leaving, but I was already here. And late. Nate had texted, letting me know he was already inside waiting for me, and I'd sat in my Jeep mulling over the situation for long enough. I was sure he was wondering if I'd bailed.

I locked my Jeep with a resigned sigh and strolled toward the large glass front door.

Once inside, the hostess flashed a warm smile. "Welcome to Angelo's."

She was gorgeous, with deep ruby-colored hair pulled back in some fancy twisted up-do, and her makeup was perfectly applied, natural and elegant. The starched shirt she wore showed the slightest hint of cleavage, and interest sparked in her eyes as I approached.

Despite her beauty, that interest was definitely one-sided. Nervous energy rolled off me in waves as the time to meet Nate drew close, so casual awareness was pretty much all I had to offer. "Thank you."

"Do you have a reservation, sir?"

"No," I replied. "CJ Bradley. I'm here to meet Nate Michaels."

"Of course! May I take your coat?" She beamed, waiting for me to pass over the garment. I slid it from my shoulders and placed it in her outstretched hand. After she hung it on a rack behind her station, she turned and waved me forward. "Please follow me."

She stepped around the desk and strode purposely in tall heels. As I followed, we passed round tables covered in champagne-colored tablecloths that matched the heavy drapes tied open with gold braided ropes. Floating candle centerpieces at each table were surrounded by glasses of varying shades of wine. Unfortunately, the aroma of expensive dinner selections that filled the air turned my stomach. Honestly, a burger and fries were more my speed. Add in the quiet opera-style music flowing through the speakers, and it would be a miracle if I made it through this date.

My parents were well-off, but this place represented another level of wealth.

We made our way through the restaurant, and a few customers' eyes met mine. I was certain I was projecting my discomfort, paranoid every one of them knew I was here on a date with a man.

"Just through here, Mr. Bradley." The hostess glanced over her shoulder, smile still in place, before turning and leading me through an archway that opened into a more private area of the restaurant.

I glanced around, trying to find the face I'd only seen in a photograph.

Seated alone at a corner table, sipping on wine and studying his phone, Nate didn't appear to notice us approaching. I took advantage of his inattention while I attempted to steady my nerves.

When the hostess stopped next to the table, Nate glanced up. Striking jade-green eyes glowed in the light, and a megawatt grin of straight white stretched his cheeks. He rose to his feet and reached out to clasp my hand. "I'm glad you made it. I was starting to think I'd been stood up."

He arched a teasing brow, and my shoulders eased. "Sorry, I'm late."

The hostess silently left the two of us alone, and he took his seat again as I slid into the one facing him.

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