Page 20 of Ruthless Beast

I’ve cried so much that I cannot imagine that there are any tears left inside of me. Besides, I don’t want to look like a train wreck tonight.

Lucas is meeting me at the new Italian Trattoria in town. I’m looking forward to tonight. I haven’t been on a date in ages, and as a student, I always look forward to getting a good meal where I can.

David refused to let me starve. He used to give me an allowance every month so that I could focus more on studying and less on trying to keep the wolves from the door. My loving brother left me a substantial amount of money when he passed, so I doubt whether I’ll have to worry about money ever again. Even so, some habits are hard to break, and I feel that frugality is now entrenched in my being.

“I’ll see you later, Dannie.”

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do,” she yells as I leave the apartment.

“I wouldn't dream of it,” I yell back.

* * *

Lucas is at a table in the back of the restaurant. He stands up when he sees me following behind the waiter.

Holy…he’s gorgeous! My date is wearing a black shirt and dark jeans. His dark hair is slicked back, which makes his green eyes seem even greener. Lucas’ cologne lingers in my nostrils as he kisses me on the cheek.

“Hi,” he says, smiling. “You look beautiful.”

“Thank you. You clean up nice, too.”

“Can I interest you in a glass of Champagne?”

“Ah, my Achilles heel. I’d love one, thanks.”

Lucas nods at the waiter, who leaves the table immediately and returns a few minutes later with a bottle of champagne and two flutes.

“Dom. Very nice,” I comment.

“If you’re going to do something, you may as well do it right.”

“I agree. What a lovely vibe,” I say, looking around the restaurant.

“It is, isn’t it?”

“Any recommendations?”

“I haven’t had a bad meal here yet. What are you in the mood for?”

“You can catch me in a trap with pasta. Tomato base with lots of chili and capers.”

“Sounds good.”

Lucas orders a pizza bread starter, and we chat while we pick at it. By the time the main is served, it seems as if we’ve known each other for years.

“You’re easy to talk to, Emily,” he says in between bites of perfectly cooked pasta.

“So are you. I was nervous about tonight,” I relent.

“Why?”

“I’m not sure.”

“And now?”

“Now I feel like I can tell you anything.”

“That’s good news,” he grins.

---