Page 66 of Forbidden Eyes
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The place we walk into isn’t anything like I had expected. It’s more of a beach shack than a formal restaurant, but the aromas of garlic, wine and fish set my stomach rumbling. Carter has my hand firmly in his as we walk through the small eatery to a porch with a dozen tables overlooking the beach.
“Wow, the view is amazing.”
“That it is. And the food is great.”
We take a seat at a little wooden table down by the beach, a roughened, striped canopy over the top of us, and my eyes travel out to sea. We’re in our own private time here, perfectly safe where no one can touch us. But that time has a limit. The stray thought is unwelcome here tonight, and I force it from my mind.
“I would have thought you’d choose somewhere a little fancier.” I take the menu and scan down the handful of options, feeling very out of place.
“No. I know that’s what you’re accustomed to, but that’s not me. Thought we might try keeping up the firsts for you.”
I smile, amused at the idea, but it makes me think of how little I have tried in my life. “I haven’t been allowed to find out what I would choose for myself. This is nice, though. When we go out as a family, Dad usually decides where with Mom’s input. Where should he be seen, somewhere new and upmarket. Expensive, not that it matters to him. It’s all a show, and one I’ve played a role in without even realising. I guess that's how your friend knew me earlier.” I look out at the view, watching the burnt orange hues melt together with the blues of the sea.
“Karl knows about everyone. And everything. Ignore him. I do most of the time. He’s pretty trustworthy," he says,reaching for my chin to bring me back to look at him. "And you shouldn’t feel bad about the privilege you grew up with. Not everyone has that advantage. It could have been a lot worse." I suppose he's right,but he hasn't lived it like I have. Hasn't felt the pressure associated with it. "What would you like? I’ll go order at the bar.”
“Oh, right. Um, you choose. And I’ll have a bottle of sparkling water.” I close the menu and sit back. My stomach’s swarming with butterflies. Being on a date is harder than I thought it would be.
“We’ll save the alcohol for another day.” Carter winks back at me, and I feel a blush rising over my cheeks. Half a bottle of champagne is a lot for someone who’s barely had more than a few sips of the stuff before. "You look good in blue, by the way," he calls back.I do?
I glance at my blue strapless top, a smile on my face as he disappears inside, but my gaze quickly goes back to following him through the windows of the porch. And then my mind runs over his words as I wonder if the Cane lifestyle isn’t all he’s known. It's not like he hasn't had the same privileges as me while he's been with Uncle Quinn, but I guess he wasn't always there. Actually, I don't know anything about where he came from. It gets me thinking about the first time we met in Uncle Quinn’s office, the thoughts I had back then.
I continue to watch him as he leans on the bar, casually taking his time and talking to the guy serving him. He’s not in the custom suit I’ve always seen him in before. Or at least he’s lost some of it, leaving him in a white shirt with the sleeves rolled up to show his impressive forearms, and jeans again rather than suit pants.
It would be easy to be distracted by him all day.
Before I’m done ogling him, he’s on his way back. He catches me watching and a huge smile breaks over his face. It’s stunning. Most of the time I’ve been with him, he’s been stoic and serious. Smiling like that, he’s beautiful.
“Thanks.” He passes me a bottle of sparkling water. “So, when did you start working for Uncle Quinn?” I go for what I imagine to be date talk.
“Young. Younger than Logan. It’s a long story.”
“We have time. Besides, I think you know me well enough to offer some further insight into Carter Wade.”
“Maybe. I ordered us a sharing platter. Hunks of fresh bread. Plenty of fish. Mussels in wine and garlic.”
His change of subject isn’t subtle, but I refuse to push him on the topic if he doesn't want to go there.
"Okay. How about that scar then?"
"What?" he says, smiling.
"Your scar. Why do you have it?"
"Jesus,you wanna know my star sign, too?"
"Yes. I'm a Libra. Scar?"
He busts out laughing, and for the first time since we've met, I get the feeling I’ve got closer to Carter than anyone has before. Seeing him laugh is beautiful. It’s rich and full bodied, with a grin that could melt the panties off any woman, me included. He looks younger as well, less serious, and the ice-cold demeanour he presented when we first met is nowhere in sight.
"Fuck me. Can't remember a time a woman's made me laugh like that," he chuckles, picking up his drink. "Jesus. I don't even know what my star sign is. Or care."
"Scar then?"
"Alright. For fuck’s sake. Tenacious much?"
Yes, I am.