My stomach flip-flops at the sight of him.
When he sees me, he rises to his feet, a heart-stopping smile on his face.
“May I help you?” the maître d’ asks.
“I think I see him right there,” I tell him, nodding in Ethan’s direction.
The man smiles. “Right this way.”
“Hi,” I say softly when I arrive at the table.
“Hey there, sunshine.” Ethan takes a step toward me and presses a kiss to my cheek. “You look gorgeous.”
“Thank you,” I say, unable to meet his eyes.
He pulls out the chair for me and I happily sit.
Ethan takes a seat next to me, not across like he had been before.
“I’m glad you came,” he says, as though he'd been unsure I would.
“I’m glad you asked.”
“Are you sure about that?” He takes a sip of his water. “You didn’t look all that glad when I asked.”
“It’s not you, it’s me.”
“Now who’s using cliché lines?”
The humor in his voice was apparent as he referenced our conversation from our first night together.
“I’m sorry if I seemed disinterested, it’s just . . . I worry. A lot,” I admit.
“About?”
“Everything? But in this instance, I worry what people will think when they see us together. I worry that rumors are going to fly, and my reputation is going to turn to shit. I worry that-”
Ethan holds up a hand. “Holy shit, you really do worry too much.”
“Told you.”
“Your reputation is impeccable,” Ethan says in a reassuring tone. “No one would think less of you for going out and having fun.”
“No, but if the person I’m out with is a client . . . ”
“I’m not a client. Not yours, at least. No harm, no foul.”
“You’re still a client of Advantage Player and—”
“And yet, you have zero say in my career, how I run it, or what I do. That’s Tripp’s job. I’m happy to clarify that to anyone who insinuates otherwise.”
While it doesn’t work wonders, his words do put me at ease.
“So, what’s good here?” I ask.
I’m here, so there’s no use in hemming and hawing over my worries and fears. We might as well enjoy our night.
“I don’t have a clue. It’s the first time I’ve been here. I don’t do much dining out.”