Page 20 of Let It Be Me
“I’m planning to head home and soak my feet. I love heels but I don’t think I’m made to wear them for the long-term,” Sarah explains. “My Uber should be here soon.”
Be bold, I tell myself. “Cancel it. I wanna take you somewhere one of the locals at the block party suggested.”
She eyes me with skepticism, wary of crossing the line between professional and personal. “Riley…”
“Just as friends–acquaintances. I promise.”
A beat passes before she’s pulling up her phone and canceling her Uber. At the same time the valet brings my car around. I move to open the passenger door and Sarahthanks me before I’m rounding the car, tipping the valet, and sliding into the driver's seat.
“This isn’t where you take me to a frat party, is it? Because I did that in college and I hung my hat up six years ago.”
A laugh barks out of me. “I promise no frat parties. Although I would like to see photographic evidence of that.”
“Over my dead body,” she jokingly threatens.
A comfortable silence takes over in the car as I make the short drive to a small wine bar. It turns out the block party proved very useful for getting to know the locals. Some were generational families who’ve owned restaurants since long before I was born.
I park a little ways down the street and get out of the car, rounding the back to the passenger door to help Sarah out. She hesitantly puts her hand in mine and uses me as leverage to get out.
“Where is it you’re taking me?” she asks when I’ve moved her to the building side of the sidewalk, with me on the street side.
I hover my hand on the small of her back as I lead her down the concrete path. “I met this couple at the fourth of July event and they own Memories Wine & Jazz Bar. They said I could come by anytime and that I always had a table.”
“I knew going to the event would work out for you,” Sarah gloats.
“Is this where I get on the ground and kiss your feet? Because I have no problem getting on my knees for you.” I move around her and open the door after saying that.
She gives me a scathing look before walking through the door. I stop right behind her when I enter and the heat from her body soaks into mine and I have to tamp down the urge to wrap my arm around her and kiss her temple.
This space is a moody person's dream. Black and white tiled floors with botanical wallpaper. The black marble-top bar is paired with a dark wood bottom and is occupied by a few couples as sommeliers dressed in black whip up drinks. It’s a place where I could see myself occupying frequently when I’m in the city.
“Take a seat anywhere,” one of the sommeliers instructs from behind the bar.
I survey the space from over top of Sarah’s head. The patio is open and for a summer night, it’s strange to find the space bare. The owners did mention that they have live music a few times a week and I was hoping we could catch something. Unfortunately it looks like we were a little too late.
I step around Sarah and grab her hand as I lead us to the patio. The outdoor area is spacious with several tables and loveseat couches for more intimate gatherings. I lead us to an isolated area before settling at one of the loveseats.
“Oh. It’s a little cold out here,” Sarah says when she settles in her seat.
She’s not wrong. The breeze from the water blows in and with no buildings to act as a barrier cool air whips right in and bounces off the building. But I’m used to the cold, what with spending most of my time on the ice. I take my suit jacket off and rest it along her back. Making sure that it’s secure, I turn and make sure the patio heater is turned on as well.
“Better?” I ask.
“Mm-hmm,” she murmurs without making eye contact and I can’t help but gaze at her with a smile on my face. “This isn’t a date.”
“Didn’t say it was,” I respond and pull my phone out to scan the QR code that’s on the table in front of us.
We order our drinks and for the rest of the night, we talk. As friends. Because that’s all Sarah will give me. But I understand it as she technically works for me now. Our talk doesn’t squash my hunger for her. No. It slowly burns it until I’m ready for the next hit she can give me.
Sarah is unlike any woman I’ve met before. When she talks about something she’s passionate about, her whole face lights up. When she laughs, not a fake laugh to get me to move on, but a real laugh. One that starts in her belly and lights up her whole body. It makes me want to take an ice pick to the brick wall she’s put up to keep us firmly in our place. And when I drop her off at home later that night, I make another promise to myself to abide by the rules to get my reputation in shape.
And hopefully get Sarah to see me as more than a screw up.
9
SARAH
It’s an early September morning in Columbus. My steps are cushioned by my white Air Force Ones as I walk through the lobby of the arena. I decided to tone down my outfit, which I’m now grateful for, as the chill from the rink skirts over my face when I make my way through the tunnel. I pull my three-quarter zip CSU sweatshirt tighter around my body and am grateful for the jeans I chose to wear that are covering my legs. I also brought my laptop to hopefully get some work done for my other clients. But with the chill in the arena I doubt my fingers will allow me to type a thing.
