Page 28 of The Last Resort
I’ll rock more than a pair of heels if you give me half a chance.
The waitress caught Rachel’s eye and gave her a look that all but screamed,‘I’ll buy you a dress and heels if it means you’ll go out with him, come on the sisterhoodis waiting.’
“So this would be a proper date? I mean I just need to understand the parameters of things.”
Parameters, seriously? Next, you’ll be wanting to talk post-industrial design.
“Yes, Rachel. It would be a date. With all that those things usually encompass.”
Oh snap. Mister Highfalutin Fancywords.
“I can be ready just before seven. I’ll text you the address. I’m looking forward to our first official date, Matthew Jones.”
“Yes!” squealed the waitress as she dashed back into the kitchen.
A sneaky tear found its way to Rachel’s eye. She blinked it away and lifted up her coffee cup. It humbled her to know that someone else was so invested in her love life.
Matthew turned from watching the waitress. “Well okay then. But if you break my heart, I’m calling dibs on this bakery in the bust-up.”
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
The sun was setting by the time Matthew pulled into the driveway of the address where Rachel had asked him to pick her up. When the front door of the house opened, he quickly hopped out of the car and came to meet his date.
Rachel who was dressed in a long red woolen coat was slowly making her way down the garden path toward him. “I figured they might not let me through the front door if I tried to get in wearing my snow boots,” she said, nodding at the pair of strappy heels which hung from her left hand. When she reached his side, Matthew slipped his arm around her waist, and planted a kiss on her cheek. “You would look amazing in anything.”
The act felt so natural, so easy to him. Rachel’s skin was soft and warm. When to his delight, she returned the kiss, a frisson of heat shot down his spine. Where had this woman been all his life?
I hope that was the first of many kisses we will share tonight.
He took the high heels from Rachel’s fingers. “And any place that dares to refuse entry to a beautiful woman like you, goes on our banned list.”
“Banned list?”
“My oldest brother has a thing about places who treat their customers based purely on how they dress. He says you should never judge a book by its cover.”
Matthew knew a lot of billionaires and millionaires, some of whom dressed so down and out that people often tried to give them money when they stopped in the street. As far as the Royal family were concerned, any hotel or restaurant which turned its nose up at a potential guest had no right to be in the hospitality business.
He escorted Rachel around to the passenger side of the Jeep and opened the door for her, still holding her heels while she climbed in and put on her seatbelt. If his mother could see him now, she would be thrilled. One, because he was behaving as the perfect gentleman and two, because he was actually going on a date.
Alice Royal was keen to see all three of her sons happily settled and married. She was going to get her wishes with Jordan, and also with Bryce, but he hoped she was curbing her enthusiasm when it came to him. Marriage was a serious business, and he wasn’t going to rush into a relationship just to please his mother.
Matthew made his way around to the driver’s side and climbed in, closing the door quickly behind him. He wasn’t wearing many layers tonight, and the bitterly cold wind was taking no prisoners.
He rubbed his hands together. “The weather forecast is for a balmy twenty degrees tonight, but fortunately no snow. You’ll be pleased to know that the restaurant has an underground parking garage, so we won’t have to brave the chilly elements when we get out.”
“Yay. I might have a coat on, but I’m freezing. Colorado weather is the natural enemy of a date dress.”
Matthew had kissed her. Again. And she’d kissed him, back. Okay, so it was just a couple of friendly pecks on the cheek, but still …
His lips.
My lips.
Our skin. Bliss.
Rachel was as excited as a hormone fueled sixteen-year-old going to prom. Not that she’d actually attended a prom, but she knew what it was like to be that age and feel all the feels.
Her private ladies academy in Atlanta would never have stooped so low as to conduct such an uncouth event as a prom. A young lady in Georgia society was presented wearing a white gown and gloves at a formal coming out ball. A ball which had nothing to do with keggers and was all about meeting the high standards of social graces and etiquette. Rachel had done some serious catching up once she’d hit college.
