Page 10 of Sly Like a Fox
I’ve never been genuinely excited about getting to know someone for their own sake.“It’s probably just because the date went well,” I say, but even as I speak the words, they’re not entirely true.
She grins.“Or maybe you actually like him.”
“I barely know him.”
“That’s what second dates are for.”She studies me for a minute.“When’s the last time you talked about a guy without mentioning his net worth or his potential to improve your situation?”
I open my mouth to protest but then close it.Tonight, describing Fenton to her, I’d focused on his intelligence, his humor, and the way he made me feel.His wealth was a factor, but it wasn’t the only factor.“That’s different,” I finally say.
“How?”
“Because...”I struggle for an explanation that doesn’t sound shallow.“Because I need financial security.You know what my situation is like.”
“I do know, and I’m not judging you for being practical.I also know you, and you’ve never looked like this after a date.You’re glowing.”
Heat creeps up my neck.“I am not glowing.”
She chuckles.“You absolutely are.You look like someone who just had an amazing evening with a man she finds genuinely attractive, not like someone who just completed a successful business transaction.”
The distinction makes me squirm slightly.My previous relationships have felt like business transactions, with most being pleasant enough and sometimes mutually beneficial, but ultimately disposable.Tonight felt different.Personal.Real.
“It’s probably just because he didn’t try to grope me or ask me to demonstrate my fox abilities for his entertainment,” I say, deflecting with humor.
“The bar is so low, it’s practically underground,” she says with a grin, “But I think this is more than relief at meeting a decent human being.”
WhenFentoncallsaroundlunchtime to suggest meeting for dinner at Coastal, a waterfront restaurant, I’m both relieved and slightly disappointed.I’m relieved because it’s still upscale but not quite as intimidating as Meridian.Appetizers there cost twenty dollars instead of forty.I’m disappointed because part of me had been looking forward to another evening in that rarefied atmosphere, where everything gleamed with expensive sophistication.
Still, Coastal has its own appeal, as I discover when I step through the door that evening.The dining room overlooks the harbor with string lights overhead and a menu featuring fresh seafood alongside classic Italian dishes.It’s romantic without being overwhelming and sophisticated without being pretentious.
It’s perfect for a second date.
I choose a navy-blue dress this time, one I actually own rather than borrowed from Chloe, and keep my makeup slightly more subtle.The goal tonight is to build on the connection we established, to see if the chemistry was real or just the product of expensive wine and thoughtfully orchestrated ambiance.
Fenton is already waiting when I arrive, standing as I approach the table with that same understated charm that caught my attention yesterday.He’s wearing a different suit—navy instead of charcoal gray—but the effect is the same.He’s elegant, confident, and quietly powerful.
“You look beautiful,” he says, pulling out my chair.
“Thank you.You look dashing as well.”I look around for a moment.“This place is lovely.”
He nods.“I thought you might prefer something a little more intimate.”
The way he says it sends warmth curling through me.Intimate suggests he’s thinking about this as more than just dinner between two people testing compatibility.He wants privacy for deeper conversation.Or maybe he has something else in mind, but that’s not happening on the second date.
“You thought correctly.I appreciate a place where we can more easily talk.”
We settle into easy conversation over a Pinot Grigio that pairs perfectly with the ocean view.Tonight feels more relaxed than our first date, like we’ve moved past the initial interview phase and into something more natural.
“I kept thinking about what you said last night,” he says as we wait for our appetizers, “about wanting to see the unguarded version of me.”
“And?”
“I’m not sure I remember how to be unguarded.It’s been a while.”
I sense the admission is more honest than anything he shared yesterday.“Bad experiences?”
“Something like that.”He takes a sip of wine, and I catch another glimpse of something raw beneath the cultured surface.“What about you?You seem pretty guarded yourself, despite calling me out on it.”
I shrug.“Fox shifter survival instinct.People either want to use us or they’re afraid of us.Either way, showing too much of yourself too quickly is usually a mistake.”
