Page 10 of Devil in the Details
The waitress came by and picked up the empty glass, and I ordered another one. Why the hell not? I heard someone enter and looked over to the door, my heart instantly racing, because it had to be him, right? But it was just a woman with her two kids, the girl and boy fighting over some little toy.
I exhaled slowly and leaned back in my seat. I was nervous as hell and I hated that. I reached in my purse for my cell phone, about to use it for some distraction. I heard someone else comein and looked up, seeing a man and a woman walk into Rocco’s. I noticed instantly they both looked out of place. I also noticed the man was attractive. Like really good-looking.
He wore a pair of dark slacks, nice, expensive-looking loafers, and the white shirt I could see underneath his dark tweed jacket was pressed almost severely. The first few buttons were undone on his shirt, the material open slightly to where I could see his tanned, muscular flesh.
He had an olive complexion, and his dark, hair short was styled impeccably. He looked like he should be in the business district of the city. They both did.
The woman behind him looked like she’d stepped into the wrong restaurant, like she wanted to see how it was on the “other” side of town, what with her Jimmy Choos, her no doubt designer pencil skirt that showed off her perfect body, and her tiny sweater that was probably made from cashmere. Her long blonde hair was styled sleekly, and she was wearing so much makeup I wondered what she really looked like without it on.
The man stopped and glanced around the restaurant then his gaze landed on me. I felt my heart jump into my throat. He held my gaze a little too long, given the fact that I was stranger, and I felt my cheeks heat.
I forced my attention to the woman he’d walked in with, and, surprising the hell out of me, she stood off to the side and greeted a man who entered. He looked just as elegantly dressed as she did, but he was far less attractive than the man who I thought she’d come with.
The woman and newly entered man looked around Rocco’s, and I saw the distaste cover their expressions right before they left.
Yeah, they’d been in the wrong establishment for sure.
I still felt like I was being watched and looked over to where the first—very attractive—man had been standing. But I gaspedin shock when he was standing right by my table, looking down at me, this curious expression on his face.
“Olive?”
Oh. My. Fucking. God.
He’s here for me?
I cleared my throat and looked around. Maybe there was another Olive he was meeting, another blind date happening at Rocco’s. I felt like a damn idiot for even thinking that, but this man was certainly not who I expected to meet tonight.
“Are you Olive?” He lifted a dark eyebrow, the corner of his mouth kicking up in amusement at my clear awkwardness.
I smoothed my hand down my dress and stood. “I am. Sorry. I thought you were with that woman.”
He looked behind him, but she’d already left.
“Woman?”
How had he not seen her? She’d been drop-dead gorgeous. And here I was in my five-dollar sandals and my clearancedress that had a zipper on the side that dug into me if I slouched too much.
And I felt grossly underdressed as I stared at him. This man screamed success. I screamed unemployment and booziness on orange spiked shakes.
“Hi. I’m Pope, David’s brother.” He held out his hand, and I quickly wiped my palms on my dress again. I was nervous and sweaty and a little bit buzzed.
When I took his hand in mine, I immediately noticed how strong and soft it was, how warm and… masculine. And he smelled good, like expensive cologne that wasn’t overawing or obnoxious.
We held on to each other’s hand a little longer than what was probably necessary, and when he finally let go, I felt this tingling sensation move through my fingers.
He sat first, and I snapped out of whatever weird haze I was in and took my seat across from him. I had my freshly filled boozed-up shake in front of me and didn’t miss how his gaze dipped down to take note of that.
“I was here a bit before you came, so I figured why not,” I sputtered out and immediately wished I would have kept my mouth shut. He smiled at me, but I didn’t feel like it was condescending.
“Hey, no judgment,” he said in this deep, very masculine voice that had all my girly bits tingling, as if they were shouting out to me to just take him home right now.
God, I was so confused. It was either the alcohol, desperation, or I’d finally lost my damn mind.
The waitress was by our table in the next moment, and I could see how enamored she was by Pope’s presence.
Girl, I feel you.
He shifted slightly so he could remove his tweed jacket. He put it over the back of his chair, his button-up shirt just as crisp as I thought it would be.
