Page 6 of Big Filthy Mobster

I rise too, walking with her to the break room door. Before she wraps her hand around the doorknob, I catch her wrist and spin her around. Then, while she isn’t expecting it, I surge forward to give her another, more chaste kiss.

“Have a good night, Holly,” I tell her, reaching for the door and opening it for her. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“You have a good night, too,” she replies breathlessly, her eyes locked on me as she passes by. “I can’t wait to see you again.”

Chapter Four

Holly

The rest of that shift passes in a complete blur. In fact, when Patrick walks back out of the breakroom and leaves with a smile thrown my way, the rest of the night is a mess of strange faces, playing cards, and whiskeys.

By the time I’m climbing into my bed, I’ve decided that my goal to live for myself most definitely includes this new man that has my insides all in a twist. With more confidence than I feel, I determine that I’ll be reaching out to him in the morning.

With thoughts of his soft smile and handsome face on my mind, I drift off to sleep.

Sticking to my convictions, when the sun streams into my bedroom, I type out a short message to Patrick to let him know that I really enjoyed our talk from the night before. Almost immediately, his reply comes through. He enjoyed it too, and he asks if I’d like to join him tonight for dinner. Obviously, I tell him that I’d love to see him.

To keep myself from dwelling on our impending meeting—is it a date—I decide to clean my apartment like I was planningon doing anyway. This proves to be the right thing to do. When I’m finally satisfied with the way my floors look and all of the laundry is folded and put away, it's time for me to hop in the shower and get ready.

I arrive at the restaurant that’s just outside of town a few minutes before the time we agreed upon and head inside. When I walk in, the host asks if I’m joining Patrick, and I’m whisked away to a secluded booth in the back corner. He’s already settled in with a glass of sparkling water sitting in front of him, his eyes lighting up when he sees me approaching.

“Holly,” he says warmly, rising from the booth and pulling me into a tight hug. When he lets me go, he says, “It’s so nice to see you in something other than your all black uniform.”

I look down at the short red dress I’m wearing and feel my face heat up. “It’s nice to get the chance to dress up a little.”

“Well, I’d love to give you more opportunities to do so.” He gestures toward the bench. “Please, sit. Our appetizer should be here soon.”

“Our appetizer?” I inquire, sliding into the corner, feeling my stomach swoop pleasantly when he climbs into the same side beside me, pressing our thighs together.

“The artichoke dip is incredible,” he informs me simply as he passes a menu to me. “I wasn’t sure what you’d want to drink, but I’m sure that Grace will be here to grab that order soon.”

As if on cue, a pretty girl with long, curly black hair pulled into a tight ponytail arrives with our appetizer and takes my drink order. I tell Patrick to order for me since it’s obvious from his banter with our server that he’s a regular here. Then, whenshe walks away, he puts his hand on my knee and gestures for me to eat.

“How’s your day off been?” he asks, an easy start to the conversation.

“It was okay,” I reply as I swallow the creamy, delicious dip. “Much better now that I’m here.”

“You’re just saying that to flatter me,” he teases, smiling at Grace when she places my sweet tea in front of me.

“I’m not,” I giggle, giving into my impulse to lean into him. “What about you? Did you do any work today?”

“I actually have the next few weeks to myself,” he replies.

“Really? What kind of job do you have that you’re able to have such long periods of time on?” I can’t conceal my interest at that.

“My investments do most of my work for me,” he responds vaguely in what’s clearly an attempt to dodge the question. “When I travel, it’s to look for new business opportunities.”

“I see,” I humor, wondering if the rumors about Maxwell, my boss, extend to Patrick. What would two guys from New York want to do with a small town like Cherrywood Village?

“I might be able to bring you along on one of my business trips if you’re interested,” he offers, either not sensing my suspicion or choosing not to acknowledge it. “I don’t ever go outside of the states, but there are plenty of beautiful places in the country.”

“That sounds fun,” I concede, unable to hold back in the face of a chance to travel and because mafia members would have business outside of the U.S. too, right? “I’ve always wanted to see more of the states. I just haven’t really had the chance yet.”

“Like I said before,” he says after swallowing the bite in his mouth, squeezing my knee. “You’re still young. You have plenty of time to see the world.”

“I hope so,” I reply, my eyes catching on our server walking over with our meals in her hands. “Already?”

“They know me here,” Patrick replies nonchalantly. “I always get the best service.”

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