Page 22 of Reckless Single Daddy

His mouth drops, but that lustful desire that clouds in his eyes is all I need to see to know how this date is going to end.

I walk ahead of him as he trails close behind. I walk up the boarding steps and inside the jet. It’s spacious, but not overly so. It has two chairs that swivel or lock in place so you can recline it back to sleep. It’s beautiful, but I wonder if Cade owns the plane or if it’s from a rental company. It doesn’t matter to me either way, but I can’t help being curious about how far his wealth goes.

I take a seat in one of the chairs as he takes the other. We buckle in as the crew prepares to take off. “Where are we going?” I ask as I swivel to face him.

He looks over at me. “Denver.”

Denver? That’s one of the last places I expected Cade to say. Not to say that Denver isn’t beautiful with the mountains and everything, but what’s so special about Denver out of all the cities in the country? I’m sure there is a reason why, so I won’t question it further. For now, I’ll trust that where he’s taking us is going to be amazing and special.

I yawn as we wait for the last touches and inspections from the crew. It takes longer than I think either of us anticipated, and I slowly feel myself drifting back to sleep, leaving me vaguely aware of the words spoken by the pilot.

“Please fasten your seatbelts as we prepare to ascend.”

A light tap on my shoulder wakes me up, and I turn to look at Cade tiredly. He gives me a small smile. “I’m sorry to wake you,but we have about thirty minutes before we land if you’d like to get ready. I may have left something special for you in the sleeping quarters,” he adds cryptically.

My curiosity piqued, I get up from my seat and walk to the back quarters. On the bed, a stunning red dress is laid out nicely.

There is something arousing about knowing Cade picked this out for me with the intent of imagining me in it. I work my way out of my clothes and put the dress on, embracing the feeling of the way it hugs my waist and accentuates everything else. I walk into the bathroom and do my makeup and hair. I’m still not sure where we’re going, but Cade made it clear that we needed to look nice, so that’s what I’m going to do.

After doing the finishing touches, I walk out in my heels and stop short when I see him. He’s dressed in a suit, his hair is combed and styled. His scruff is clean. If we didn’t have plans, I’d cancel the date entirely and skip to the ending. But the best part isn’t the way he looks, but the way he looks at me. His eyes scan over the dress down to my feet, drinking every ounce of me. The hunger within them meets my equally famished ones, and for a moment, I think we both might throw caution to the wind. But instead, he breaks the intensity.

“You look stunning,” he compliments, walking over to me to place his arm around my waist, pressing a kiss to my temple. It’s a loving gesture, one that surprises me. But I welcome it nonetheless.

I hum in response. “You clean up pretty nice yourself.”

We meet each other’s gaze and smile, and I feel butterflies fluttering in my abdomen. We take the time to bask in these first moments together with a glimmer of hope that, however the night goes, we went into it optimistic and happy.

We take a car from the runway, only to arrive at an elegant restaurant about half an hour later. It has high ceilings with a botanical garden in the center, bringing organic ambiance into the space. The elegant harp player, paired with the garden, makes it feel like I’ve entered a Garden of Eden filled with tranquility and calm.

As the menus are placed in front of us, I go in search of the cheapest entrée, only I can’t because none of the prices are listed. If I’ve learned anything from TV and living in the city, it’s that if there are no prices on a menu, nothing is cheap. I don’t know why I feel so unsettled by that when we just arrived in Denver by private jet, but I do. I’m not the type of girl who is materialistic. Instead of allowing myself to appreciate it for the day, I’m thinking of all the ways to sabotage it.

“Good afternoon,” a waiter greets us. “Are you ready to order?”

I look up at Cade, who gestures to me. I take a deep breath and point to my selection.

“I’ll have the lobster, please,” I say, slowly dying on the inside.

Cade, the person actually paying for all of this, is completely calm and collected. He looks like he’s done this a thousand times.

“And I’ll have the filet mignon, thank you,” he says as we hand off our menus. He leans forward. “I’m sorry, it’s been awhile since I’ve been on a date,” he says, chuckling.

“You’re doing fine,” I say, then frown a little. “Well…”

“Is this too much?” he asks, frowning a little.

I sigh, taking in the grandeur of the restaurant. For most other women, this would be a fairytale come true. Maybe every once in a while, this wouldn’t be so bad. But all the time? It would suffocate me.

“Maybe,” I allow, “but like I said, I don’t want you to think I’m here for your money.” He shakes his head, but I quickly add, “It might be hard for me to get used to, but I’m willing to try new things.”

I smile at him, and he nods, smiling back. It’s a compromise, but I suddenly feel stupid for feeling this way. I mean, a billionaire is whisking me away to another city for our very first date. If Cade doesn’t think I’m after his money, what does it matter anymore? I need to cut myself some slack and embrace this situation. Otherwise, all of those frustrations and desires will be for nothing.

The food is perfection, as to be expected from a Michelin-starred restaurant, and I could easily fall into a food coma. Never have I tasted such buttery and melty lobster in my life. If my art career ever fails me, I could live happily as a food critic.

As we step out, Cade’s hand finds mine, and we walk down the street silently. The date overall has been pretty great, but Cade and I have barely said anything to each other outside of my mini-freakout about the extravagance of it. Obviously, his hot-and-cold demeanor was one of the reasons why I didn’t talk to him for a few days, but I thought we talked it over, so why does it feel like we’re going backward?

Since we’re walking, maybe now is a good time to bring it up.

“Can I ask you something?” I ask, and Cade hums in response. “Why have you been so difficult to read when it comes to your feelings? And I don’t want you to say that it comes down to Mike. I feel like there’s more you’re not willing to talk about.”

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