“Could I have?” he said. “I’m not one to question or try to understand things, but seems to me that these lucky breaks are something of a sign, huh?”
I rolled my eyes, as I knew Nick was cheerfully playing along. He embraced me in a hug that lasted more than a few beats, and as I wrapped my arms around him, I took note of the muscular build of his that I had somehow failed to notice before. His back, his arms, his chest and abs—obviously, the sports coat only let me get hints of it, but I felt curious enough that my mind went to some places it needed to retreat from if I were to behave.
“So, tell me about Downtown Cocktail Lounge,” I said.
“Well, we got ourselves a private booth,” he said.
“What, like Las Vegas bottle service?”
“Kind of, except without the blaringly loud DJ music and other distractions.”
His hand brushed against mine as we walked toward the lounge, and I felt every inclination to take it. Nick wasn’t exactly hiding his intentions, either, which was pretty damn hot. I wasn’t ready to give in yet, but I knew that I wasn’t going to behave nearly as well on this date as I had on the previous one.
There were only so many times I could resist kissing a man this handsome before I just threw caution to the wind.
And that was doubly true when he opened the door for me and placed his hand on the small of my back, escorting me inside. The warm glow that radiated from my lower spine felt like I’d jumped into a massage inside a gentle sauna.
The setting of Downtown Cocktail Lounge was exactly the kind of place that a budding couple went to light the spark for their chemistry. The lighting was very dim, just above that of a club with strobe lights; the music was upbeat and catchy, but not overwhelming; and all of the bartenders and waitresses were dressed like they had come out of a wedding. The various booths had purple decor, and the one that Nick guided me to really was in the corner of the bar.
Yeah, it’s probably going to happen tonight. Just what “it” was remained to be seen, but early returns were promising for Nick.
“Can I get you a drink?” he said.
“Just a margarita, please,” I said.
He smiled, nodded, and turned around, leaving me with my thoughts as I saw him go around the corner. I knew that I couldn’t get through the evening without discussing two things—one, my ex, and two, the supposed family ties of his. I knew the first one, I could easily bring up, but the second seemed like a black box of sorts. How would I have reacted if he’d come to me and said, “So, rumor has it that your grandparents killed people?”
But I didn’t have long to think, because before I could decide on the best course of action, Nick had already slid into the booth next to me, his jeans brushing up against my leg, his left hand patting me on the knee.
“You didn’t get me a margarita,” I said teasingly.
“Because they’re going to bring it to us,” he said. “That’s the perk of having a private booth. We actually will have someone coming by to fill us up whenever we need it. I just figured that I’d get the ball rolling.”
Initiative. Nice.
“So what’s on your mind, Izzy Saunders?”
I laughed at how he said my name, as if he and I had switched roles—now he was the reporter or marketer speaking to me, the supposed center of the spotlight.
“What’s on my mind?” I said with a smile back. “I want to know…”
No, don’t get too deep this quickly. Save it for later.
“I want to know why you have never wanted to live anywhere but San Francisco.”
“Ah, the question my agent asks me all the time so he can get a bigger contract out of the Yankees,” he said with a smirk. “The truth is family is everything to me. I’ve got three younger siblings, and we all grew up in a very tight-knit, loving family. I have to travel enough as it is with spring training and going on road trips; the notion of having to be in San Francisco be, at most, a once-every-three-months deal rather than it being the default just doesn’t sound fun. And frankly, not to sound arrogant or snotty, but I’ve got enough money from enough places that I don’t need to sign with the Yankees.”
“I see,” I said. “What’s on your mind?”
“Oh, so now I have to play this game too? How unfair that I have to do the thing I asked you to do!”
I giggled and found my hand resting on his. We were getting closer by the minute, and there was nothing that could stop us—nor did I want anything to.
“I want to know…”
He put his hand to his lips as if debating whether he wanted to say what was really on his mind. I hoped that it was him asking a question he thought was serious but wasn’t, but I had a gut feeling he was going to ask the question.
“I want to know what you would think if…”
Again, he hesitated. The phrasing of his question threw me for a bit. If it wasn’t ex-related…
“What would you think if I told you I came from a conservative family of sorts?” he said. “I know for some, in this area—”
“What, like politically?”
“Well, yes, but mostly just in tradition and religion.”
“Oh, no, I don’t mind that at all,” I said, relieved I wasn’t getting roped into a discussion about my ex. If anything, I saw it as an easy way to “joke but really seek the truth” about his family.
