Page 6 of Scandalous Secrets

“What brings you to the Brasserie tonight?” I asked, leaning back against my seat and looking at her curiously.

“A date from hell,” she answered with a sigh.

I couldn’t help but feel a tinge of unwarranted jealousy for this stranger I had just met, knowing she had been out with another man before this. But I also felt relieved that this meant she was most likely single. Lucky me.

“Tell me about it.”

“Seriously?”

“I could use some entertainment after the day I had.” I shrugged.

Monica groaned. “I need a drink first.”

“Extra dirty martini,” said the bartender right on cue, sliding it over. “Do you want another, Troy?”

Monica gave me a look as I nodded.

“First-name basis, huh?” she asked as the bartender walked away.

“It’s not like that.”

“Mhmm,” she teased before taking a sip of her drink. Her eyes widened slightly. “Wow, this is good.”

“Told ya. Now, tell me about this date.”

She proceeded to tell me about her date with some Joe Schmoe who clearly didn’t know how good he had it. I wondered how she had even been set up with a guy like that. He sounded like a jobless Justin Bieber wannabe. No match for who sat before me.

I listened intently, watching as she talked animatedly. I was hooked. She was a fantastic storyteller.

“I know we just met, but you are far too good for that guy,” I said.

And I meant it. It wasn’t a line.

Her cheeks flushed before she looked down at her drink, which was now bone-dry.

“I think I need another,” she said on a giggle.

I laughed and signaled to the bartender for another.

“I’m starting a new job tomorrow…” admitted Monica, bringing my focus back to her, as the bartender brought over another martini.

“So you want to go hungover?” I asked jokingly.

She gave me a playful shove. As she pulled away, I wished her hand would stay against my chest.

“I’m just nervous,” she said, biting her lip.

That one bite made me hard.

She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear and took a long sip of her drink.

“Wow, you reallyarenervous.”

“Just a little,” she admitted, holding up two fingers and pinching them together.

“You know…” I leaned in. “I could help with that.”

“Is that so?” she asked, leaning in, too, our faces just inches apart.

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