Page 96 of Sugar Coated Secrets

“I think everyone has regrets in some way or another. As for me, I have one. How about you? Any regrets about staying?”

“No,” she says, but I can tell she isn’t telling me the truth.

It would make perfect sense for her to want to leave town. It’s obvious her grandmother is too sick to move anywhere else. Money is another issue.

“What about school? I know you had the grades. I’m sure you could have gotten into the best culinary school in the country. You still can.”

She sighs. “That shipped sailed a long time ago. I don’t regret staying. I hate Airy, but my grandmother is the only family I have left. I wouldn’t trade her for some fancy culinary school when she has taught me everything she knows.”

“What are your plans?”

She shrugs. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it yet.”

She’s leaving. I can see it in her eyes and the way her cheeks go red under her foundation. She plans to leave and not look back. That just won’t do. I could never let her go.

There is a knock on the door. It’s room service. The hotel staff wheels in a cart with champagne and a meal for two expertly selected. I wanted the best for her.

When they leave, I pull out her chair. Then I uncork the bottle of champagne and pour her a glass.

“How about you?” she asks when I take a seat across from her. “Are you planning to settle down, or will you continue to live your life dangerously?”

I smile. “Both.”

“Who’s the lucky woman?”

“I think you know.”

“Do I?”

“By the time the night is over, you’ll leave here without any doubts.”

“Real smooth.”

I cut into my steak and give her a wink. “You should see me drive.”

“I have, and you were great, by the way,” she praises, taking a sip of her champagne.

Her approval strokes my ego. Being here with her and having dinner after a race feels normal. Like we have been doing this for years. There is no awkward conversation. She isn’t giggling or texting on her phone, telling the world she is with me. I have her full attention, and fuck if she doesn’t have mine.

I can’t wait to have her.

After the table is cleared, I look at her champagne glass and notice it’s half full.

“I’m not much of a drinker.”

“It’s not that. I’m making sure you’re not tipsy.”

“How come?” she asks innocently. “I noticed you haven’t touched yours.”

“Another first. I want to be of sound mind when I’m with you. It’s been a while. I don’t wake up…”

“In a hotel room with a random blonde,” she finishes for me.

“You read up on me?”

“Only the juicy stuff.”

I chuckle. “Oh, there’s plenty of that, but I’m not interested in you to be part of that kind of story.”

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