Page 35 of French Martini

“For dinner, yeah, but as the night goes on, it’s a sausage fest.”

Oakley chuckles, flopping down on the sofa. “Gotcha. Wine?”

My brow crinkles but I nod as I sit down, noting the wineglasses and bottle on the coffee table. “Sure. I thought you preferred beer.”

“I do, but you’re my guest.” He fills two glasses. “Besides, I’m pretty sure I won’t be able to get beer on tap at the event.”

“Probably not.”

Oakley hands me a glass and clinks it with his before taking a sip of the deep red liquid. I drink mine too, then pull back, looking at the glass like it bit me. “This is a Château Le Grand Verdus Bordeaux.” I grab the bottle. “2018.”

Oakley nods. “Yeah. The guy at the wine shop said it was good quality and that someone who likes French wines would appreciate it. Do you?”

I stare at him for a second while I process this. “You went to the wine shop for me?”

He shrugs. “Sure. Where else do you buy wine?” Oakley takes the bottle and sets it down, then scoots closer to me. “Please tell me you’re not this shocked because no one’s ever done something nice for you before?”

Averting my eyes, I focus on my glass.

“Low?” Oakley uses his index finger under my chin to lift my face. “Hey, kitten. I’m your fiancé, right? That means I know the things you like and I get them for you. It means I treat you like the precious gift you are, and I’d do anything to put a smile on your pretty face.” He grins. “Besides, I wanted to sound like I know what I’m talking about when we’re out together next week.”

“It’s very thoughtful. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. How ’bout that fashion show, huh?”

Oh thank fuck. A subject change. “Let’s do that.”

“Enjoy your wine. I’ll be back in a few.”

While he’s gone, I twist my neck back and forth. There’s no way I’m admitting to him that in my pathetic dating life I rarely met a man willing to go out of his way for me. Especially my loser ex. Alain expected me to be the doting one with not a single reciprocal thought. I convinced myself that displays of romance weren’t necessary, that we had shared values and that would get us through anything. Damn, was I wrong.

I stand and walk over to a bookcase, perusing the titles. Most of it looks like horror and sci-fi, and as I lift a book and read the back, my cheeks heat with shame. I didn’t expect Oakley to be a reader, and I’m positive now that I was stereotyping him. Ugh. I spent way too many years around shallow people, but at least I’m back with my friends. Without them grounding me, I probably wouldn’t have noticed that ugly perception I had.

“I’m back.”

I swing around and nearly drop my wineglass. Oakley is wearing a deep red suit, the color of the liquid swirling in myglass. It’s a modern fit, hugging his muscles in all the right places. The shirt beneath it is a taupe shade and the tie is a little funky, with flecks of colors in it matching the pocket square. On his feet are sleek black loafers.

“I figured I’d start with the most vibrant choice. Sam said it flattered my skin tone.” He shrugs as he slides his hands into the pockets. “What do you think?”

I can barely swallow. I think I want to get on my knees and rub my face all over his crotch like the kitten he thinks I am.

“You look… incredible.”

“Yeah?” He scratches the back of his head. “I clean up alright, huh?”

“You do.”

“I got a charcoal suit, a black one, and several shirt options. Ties and all that.”

“Where did you go?”

“Uh, Beauty, I think it was called.”

“Beauté?” I raise an eyebrow. “That place is expensive.”

Oakley chuckles. “Hell yeah it is, but it was fun. I’ve never really bought clothes like this.”

I cringe, imagining what the tab came to, but Oakley walks over to me and rubs my arm.

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