He was a wealthy, successful CEO with wine cellars worth more than my entire apartment and everything in it.
I was a twenty-something graphics designer considering buying a cat or two for companionship.
This man was not thinking about kissing me. I probably had something in my teeth.
I ran my tongue over them just to be safe and started toward his car in case he decided to say something about it and accidentally murder me with embarrassment.
“Thank you for indulging me,” he said to my back. “I’ve liked all of your mockups so far. I think the sooner the changes to the website go live the better.”
“Because your restaurants are struggling?” I asked only half kidding.
He stepped in front of me and opened the door to his car that he’d parked illegally in front of the building. “Not struggling, but they could always make more money. You should never turn down an opportunity for more money, Molly.”
He was teasing me, but I wondered if he really believed what he said. “It’s hard to make more money when you’re booked solid months out. I think you’ve hit the limit on your money-making capacity.”
I slid onto the passenger’s seat and he shut the door without answering. While he walked around the car, I flipped the visor down and checked out my teeth quickly. Nothing there. Whew.
When he was seated next to me, he paused with his hand hovering over the push button ignition. “Lilou is booked out thanks to Killian. Well, Wyatt now. But Killian was the one that originally built the reputation. Sarita does all right, although she has room to grow. But she’s also my newest venture. Bianca could drown us all.”
“Did Vera say you have a bad chef?”
“Had a bad chef,” Ezra clarified while he pulled out on the main roads. “And he wasn’t bad in that he couldn’t cook. He was bad in that he terrorized his staff and the diners. He was a hazard that I gave too much leniency for much too long. Now Bianca is without a leader and none of the current staff are brave enough to step up. It has to be an outside hire, but I can’t find anyone with the right caliber that is also willing to resuscitate a damaged reputation.”
“You can’t find a chef that wants to take over Bianca? I find that hard to believe.”
“I offered her to Vera. Did you know that? She turned me down. Every chef I’ve taken her to has turned me down. Excluding Vera, most of the chefs I’ve met would rather walk into a sure thing than gamble a flailing liability. They don’t want to tarnish their reputations and I’m not willing to bet on someone straight out of school. I need experience and wisdom. I need someone with grit.” He turned his head, meeting my gaze for a brief, sincere second before he turned back to the road. “It’s much harder to find someone like that than you’d think.”
I didn’t know what to say or how to respond. So I blurted the first thing that popped into my head. “I can’t believe Vera turned you down. She’s wanted something like Bianca forever.”
“Yeah, well that was before she met Killian. Her dream changed. I don’t fault her for it. Actually, I respect the hell out of her. Any woman that can tame Killian deserves sainthood or something. At the very least, her own restaurant.”
“She tames him and he pushes her to get outside of her box and face her fears. They’re so perfect for each other it’s kind of nauseating.”
His mouth kicked up on one side. “I didn’t peg you for a cynic, Molly.”
“Well, a growing number of bad blind dates will do that to you. True love is for the very few and the very, very lucky.”
He glanced at me out of the side of his eye. I thought he was going to call me on my true love dig, but instead he asked, “Why do you keep agreeing to blind dates if so many of them have been bad?”
Good question. Why did I keep saying yes? “Hope, I guess. Maybe I’m a cynic, but not by choice. I’m holding out for that one blind date that isn’t so bad. Or a guy that’s also a man.” I felt like slapping my hand over my mouth. I couldn’t believe I just said that! Or that I kept talking, apparently unable to shut up before I made a fool of myself. “I’m just tired of boys that don’t know what they’re looking for in a woman or in life. And I’m really tired of late night dick pics after just a couple dates. For real, it’s like your entire species doesn’t understand that not everyone is as obsessed with your penis as you are.”
“Hey, now! Not all of us enjoy taking genital selfies.” Ezra looked truly offended.
“Apologies then. Maybe there are a few of you out there with some self-restraint.”
He nodded thoughtfully. “So Molly Maverick’s dating criteria include men of a certain age with steady jobs and no dick pics?”
Smiling at his profile, I wondered what he thought of me and my broken filter. “Is it really asking so much?”
He tapped the steering wheel while his car vroomed through traffic, taking on the road with firm decisiveness and lightning quick speed—the same way I imagined Ezra did everything in life. His shrug was the same way, a simple lift and drop of his broad shoulders.
The car slowed to a stop at a red light. He turned his head again, the glow of the streetlights casting his face in gold and red, backdropped by the neon lights of buildings and the glitter of the pavement. “I agree with you. Molly the Maverick, you deserve a man.”
Having expected him to elaborate more on what kind of man I deserved, a surprised laugh escaped me. “Just any old man?”
He shot me an impatient glare. “A man, Molly. Not a boy. Not a pervert. Not a blind date that doesn’t know the difference between the incredibly smart, uncommonly beautiful woman sitting in front of him and a casual hookup.”
His words soothed some mysterious ache inside me. They were like balm on a wound I didn’t know I had.
This was it. The crux of it. What I’d been so worried about. The source of my frustrating jealousy for Vera.
I wanted a man. Not in like the heterosexual obvious way. But like Ezra had said. I wanted a man. Not a boy pretending to be a man. Not an overly sexualized, horny douchebag that only wanted one-night stands. Not a guy afraid to call me on the phone, or ask for my number, or pick up the dinner tab because it wasn’t PC anymore.
I wanted a man that still believed in chivalry. I wanted a strong, capable counterpart that would protect me, shelter me, and always, always do what was best for me.
Maybe that made me old-fashioned or outdated or whatever, but it was the truth. I was tired of playing games that got me nowhere. I was exhausted with dating apps and possibilities that fizzled to nothing. I was worn out with meeting Mr. Wrong, after Mr. Wrong, after Mr. Wrong.