Page 13 of Taking Root
Danny slipped her arm through his as they strolled for her door. “You did, in fact, Mr. Serial Monogamist.”
Within minutes, they reached his car. Her proximity made his head spin, and her soft lavender scent had him hard as a rock. The temptation to skip the reservation and try out her bed reared in a real way.
Danny paused at the hood of his Mustang to give her a once-over. “Nice wheels,” she murmured, skimming her fingers across the surface before she walked over to the passenger seat. “How fast does she move?”
Adrian hopped into the driver’s seat. “Supposed to be hundred and sixty miles per hour.” He revved the engine and set off toward their destination. After a couple seconds, he merged onto the highway and let his girl loose on the asphalt. When he cast a quick glance to Danny, a smirk twisted her lips. “What’s so funny?”
“You still drive like a grandma.” A laugh slipped from her, the sound genuine and real, the sort he held close to his chest. Even back in high school, she’d been a tough customer.
“Sue me for not wanting a ticket,” he responded. “You sound like Lex.” He accelerated, pushing his girl faster across the highway. “That better?”
Danny let out a snort. “You’re going seventy miles. On the highway. So, so ferocious.”
“Thanks, Speed Racer. This is a shared highway, not NASCAR,” Adrian shot back. He enjoyed this more than he would ever let slip. Ever since their walk in the park, their constant texts had them resuming a rhythm he believed time snuffed out. But instead, the years apart added nuances to their interchange, painting the strokes of their picture deeper each time they interacted.
Danny’s phone buzzed, and she picked it up, glancing to the screen. Last time that happened, she quick jetted out of the park without answers, part of the “don’t ask, don’t tell” he’d agreed to in spending time with her. His grip tightened on the steering wheel. This night might be over before it began.
She scanned the text over before cramming her phone into her purse. “Don’t worry,” she reassured. “I’m not going to pull a Cinderella again.”
“I was going to say, it’s not even midnight yet,” he responded, keeping the sigh of relief to himself. “You could at least wait to sneak out the bathroom window at the restaurant.”
“Thanks for the tip,” she responded, rolling down the window and letting the breeze blow in. “I was planning on holding the door open for you and walking the opposite way.” She exuded this effortless casualness he fell in sync with so easily, one that had him reeled in from the moment she reappeared.
In the distance, the chrome frame of Siren’s Call stood out amidst a beautiful terrace overlooking the ocean. The crash of the sea reverberated through the car, an undercurrent he’d be lost without. Trellises covered by climbing ivy and wisteria lined the pathway, something he figured might appeal to his gardener date. The subtle backlights along the way beckoned to glass doors preaching elegance he only waded through at weddings. Out of his element put it mildly, but he wanted to give Danny something memorable. He pulled up to a spot, bypassing the valet.
Danny let out a low whistle. “This is a bit more than Susanna’s. Sure you don’t want to hit the pause and pick a classier girl to take to this joint?”
Adrian cast her a look. “Let’s cut the bullshit. You know you’re the one I want to take here. If you hate it, tell me now, and we’ll dodge out of the reservation.”
Danny chewed on her lower lip as she glanced to where the Siren’s Call loomed. She straightened in the seat like she donned her own mask for this place. “Nah, I’m game. Let’s go, Romeo.”
He shook his head as he slipped out of his car and joined her at the walkway. Her heels clicked on the paved stone, but she managed to keep pace. Danny settled into a simmering silence, but he caught the gleam in her eyes as her gaze rested on the dangling wisteria, the pale purple petals illuminated in the soft light despite the dark surrounding night. Even if the rest of dinner turned into a comedy of errors, this had been worth it.
“So, is this how fancy doctors eat?” she asked, grabbing the door handle to tug it open for them. “Just so you know, gardener’s salaries are aggressively mediocre.”
Adrian shrugged. “Wouldn’t know. I’m one for a home-cooked meal more than fine dining any day of the week. Hope you’re ready for a riveting game of pretend because I’m praying they won’t kick me out on the spot.”
At that, the nervousness evaporated off Danny, and her eyes twinkled with newfound mischief. “After you.”
He grabbed the door. “I insist,” he said, gesturing her inside. “Don’t think I forgot your primary plan to ditch me.” Danny snapped her fingers in fake annoyance right as the host strode over, dressed in a pressed white button-down and a black vest to match his slacks.
“Dukas, party of two,” Adrian said, keeping it simple. Between the sheer number of hours he’d been awake and the way Danny’s presence distracted him, he formed a semi-functioning human being. The host didn’t even need to glance to a list or anything, just gestured them to follow. There wouldn’t be any plastic menus gracing the cream linens either. Most of his meals came from the hospital cafeteria, takeout after a long shift, or his parents’ house, so this was a brand new experience.
Danny walked beside him with confidence they both faked. Once they stepped into the main restaurant, he could see why people paid for the view here, the walls accented by large bay windows overlooking the sea. Chandeliers sparkled like dew drops from the ceiling, and each booth held fresh blooms in translucent amber vases. Slabs of marble along the back walls gleamed, featuring striations of gold and black against beige. All around, couples spoke in low voices, and glances flickered their way as they approached their table.
“Is this your way of trying to get me to shut up?” Danny murmured as she leaned in. “Bring me to a place where everyone speaks in whispers?”
He settled into the seat opposite her while the host cut a quick retreat. “Doesn’t seem like my overly complex plan is working,” he responded. “You’re as chatty as ever.”
She flashed him a grin, and the authenticity she shared with him was all he needed. Ever since she came crashing back into his life, he wasn’t obsessing over fixing people at work or fixing his family’s problems. The desire to control crept in—it did fiercer than ever since Betty left him—but for a few moments he could laugh without that heaviness.
Their waiter came over, operating on the intense formality he expected, and Adrian managed to pick out a wine without sounding like a total idiot. Put him in the middle of a medical conference and he was at the top of his game, but something like this had him stumbling like a baby lamb.
“I’ll get the ribeye, medium rare,” he finished after scanning over the miniscule menu.
Danny pursed her lips, giving it a once-over. “I’ll take the scallops,” she responded, and the waiter vanished. His shoulders relaxed at the same time as hers did.
“Maybe I should’ve gone with the diner,” he muttered. “We both would’ve been more comfortable.”
“And miss the chance to watch you squirm?” she responded. “Nonsense. Besides, I haven’t had scallops since I last lived here, and the cities up North don’t do them justice.” She glanced out the window to stare at the sea, a wild swell of waves and foamy crests. “Tonight’s been the distraction I think we both needed.”
“You really have traveled all over, haven’t you?” he murmured as the waiter brought over the bottle of wine and uncorked it, pouring the burgundy liquid into their glasses. He lifted the glass of wine and took a sip. The complexity was leagues apart from the jugs of Carlo Rossi that Nellie always brought to dinners. At home, he leaned toward collecting bottles of gin rather than wine, but the deep cocoa notes and the soft finish made him question those choices.
“Part of my secret agent training,” Danny teased as she swirled around the wine in her glass. “They plucked me out of high school and put me through rigorous lessons to join their ranks.” An obvious lie, but she made it clear she’d rather cling to a fantasy than the truth. He had the feeling the real story was a lot more personal and devastating. He didn’t miss the darkness that flickered across her eyes every time they dipped a toe into the pool of her past.
“Should’ve known,” he responded, keeping his tone light. “CIA keeps a tight leash on its agents. Masquerading as gardener too? Clever touch.”
His gaze drifted to the rest of the patrons, either lawyers and financial advisors here on business dinners, or couples leaning in intimately, dressed in quality Ralph Lauren suits and designer dresses and appearing at ease amidst all this formality. A scarlet dress caught his eye, and the moment he paused it was too late. The black pinned curls, the crimson lips in a smirk, and the dangling gold earrings he’d gotten her for their last anniversary—Betty.