Back at my room, I showered and sat on the bed with only a towel wrapped around my waist. I entered my data findings, or lack thereof, into my laptop. When that was done, I seriously considered going back into the bathroom and jerking off to stave off any embarrassing erections that seemed ever-present in the company of one Mr Jack Brighton. Especially if there would be other company attending.
But part of me didn’t want to dull the intoxicating hold he had on me. He made my whole body sing, and I wanted him to get the full reward. So, ignoring my own needs, I got dressed for the evening. Jack had said it wasn’t formal, but we weren’t dining alone and there was a personal chef.
A personal chef? Who on God’s earth hires a personal chef? Who even knows one to hire them?
I was excited and nervous for this evening. Each date had been better than the last, and I had no doubt I’d be staying the night soon. Maybe not tonight, but soon enough. I wanted to give myself to him in that way, and I knew in my bones it was only a matter of time. I wasn’t joking when I’d said I’d stay when it felt right. Though it felt right every time I’d been there, and the sexual side of me wanted it badly. But my brain said not yet. I would stay the night only after he beds me, and I liked to sample the menu before savouring the main course.
So to speak.
And speaking of main courses, I should pick up a bottle of wine or two to take. I was musing over red or white, given I didn’t know what we’d be eating, when I opened my door to leave.
Mrs Nola Bloom stood in front of me with her fist up, as if to knock. “Oh,” she said, putting her hand to her heart. I must have given her a scare. But then she looked me up and down. “Oh, how lovely. Going out for dinner?”
“Ah, yes.” She tried to look over my shoulder into my room, so I quickly stepped into the hall and closed the door behind me. “Just leaving now. Running a tad late,” I added, an excuse not to get stuck talking.
“Where are you off to?” she asked cheerfully. Then she gave me a sly smile. “Dining with anyone I know?”
I cleared my throat. “Ah, no. It’s a work dinner. Heading out of town.” That wasn’t technically a lie. I did see Jack for my work, and he did live out of town. “I best get going, actually. Was there anything I can help you with? You were about to knock?”
“Oh.” She blushed, and I knew right then that she was merely here for the gossip on me. “Just checking to see if you needed anything. You’ve been getting in late every night and leaving early, I wondered if you wanted a decent, home-cooked meal. Or breakfast. It’s part of the price you know. No extra charge.”
I put my hand up. “No, but thank you. I’ve been very busy with work, but I’m managing to eat just fine.”
“Right, then,” she said, stepping out of my way. “Better let you go. Don’t want to keep your dinner date waiting.”
I repressed a sigh and considered correcting her―she was, after all, only after gossip to feed the town vines, no doubt―but thought it wasn’t worth it. “Thank you.”
I walked as fast as was polite and got into my Defender. Next stop was the local hotel, which also served as the local bottle shop. I was loath to walk into a small town country pub, but with no other choice, I parked out front and walked inside.
The smell of stale beer assaulted me first, all bar room chatter died away to leave an awkward silence, but the lady behind the counter smiled. “Hey love, what can I get for ya?”
I ignored the eyes I could feel on me from the men at the bar. “Do you have a wine list?”
She handed over a laminated sheet of paper, and not knowing the first thing about wines, I chose the most expensive white, and the most expensive red on the list.
“Sure thing. I’ll just grab them from the storeroom. Be right back,” the lady said. She darted through a door, leaving me alone with the five men at the bar who were all staring at me.
“Good evening,” I said, uncomfortable under their scrutiny.
One man nodded, one man craned his neck to get a better look at me.
“Dressed a bit fancy for round here,” one other man said. This is why I hated frequenting establishments like this. I didn’t belong and was clearly made fun of by those who felt their masculinity needed protecting. They looked like they’d walked in from Blokey Farmers R Us, and I wondered if they got their flannel plaid shirts at a discounted rate for bulk buying.
The barmaid walked back in with two bottles in hand. “You fellas could learn a thing or two by dressing up a bit,” she said with a wink to me. “George, I reckon Bev’d love to get dressed up to go out for dinner with you looking as sharp as this guy.”
“Hey,” the man I assumed to be George said. “I have a bow tie.”
Another man snorted. “From when? Your wedding?”
The barmaid placed the bottles in brown paper bags in front of me. I handed over my card and paid, taking my wine as George was trying to remember the last time he wore suspenders.
I rushed to the Defender and don’t think I breathed until I’d turned down Stanning Road. By the time I pulled up in front of Jack’s place, I was feeling okay, until I saw another car parked at the side of his house. I’d forgotten he was expecting company other than myself. I took a deep breath, then another. My nerves were getting the better of me, and for a brief moment, I considered going home. But then I remembered he’d hired a personal chef and that I couldn’t leave him in the lurch like that. So with another deep breath, I grabbed the wine and made myself get out of the car.
I walked up the porch steps and could hear chatter inside, and the smell of something cooking was wonderful. Rosemary met me at the screen door before I even knocked. She wagged her tail, and I heard Jack say “I’ll get it” before he appeared at the door.
Jack’s immediate smile when he saw me made me feel a thousand times better. He opened the door with a tea towel in his hand. “Hello,” he said quietly, just for me. He leaned in and kissed my cheek. “You look great.”
I looked down at myself. “Oh, thank you. I wasn’t sure if the suspenders were appropriate, and the fellows at the bar seemed to think I was overdressed.”
Jack frowned for a moment. “Did they say something to you?”
“No, it wasn’t a problem.” I brushed his concern off. I held up my purchases. “I brought wine.”
“Please, come in,” he said. He slid his arm around my waist. “There’s people I want you to meet.”
A man was at the dining table, and I wondered if he was the chef. He was average height, had a healthy tan and curly brown hair. “You must be Lawson,” he said. There may have been a slight accent, possibly European, but I couldn’t be certain. He extended his hand for me to shake.
“Yes, that I am.” I shook his hand, and his smile widened.
“I’m Nico. Remmy’s husband.”
I turned to find her familiar face in the kitchen. Remmy was standing at the counter, and she quickly rounded the benchtop to put her two hands on my shoulders and kissed both cheeks. “Lawson, so nice to see you again. You met my husband, Nico?”
“Yes, thank you.”
“And our chef for tonight…” Remmy waved her hand to the small child standing on a dining chair at the kitchen sink. He was peeling a carrot. “Luca, this is Lawson. Lawson, this is my son, Luca.”
“Nice to meet you,” I said.