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“Dude, I’m totally romantic!” In fact, Chloë had considered bringing flowers for tonight’s date but in the end decided that as this was Morgan’s first date with a woman, it might be laying it on a little too thick. “What I’m lacking, though, are the funds to just whisk you away to another country tonight.”

“A Barrington Woods alum without funds?” Morgan said wryly. “That doesn’t seem possible.”

Chloë giggled again, making a left turn onto the 78 towards Vista.

“Okay, maybe I’m overstating my lack of liquidity just a little bit,” she said.

“Excellent word usage,” Morgan complimented.

“Thank you. Although I’m practically a pauper now compared to when my next birthday comes around.”

“What happens then?”

“Well, on my next birthday I turn twenty-five and at 12:01 a.m. that day I come into quite a hefty trust fund. But…” She trailed off.

“But…?”

Chloë sighed. She always hated telling people this because she felt it made her sound like a naïve idealistic kid who was trying to somehow make up for the fact that she was actually very, very privileged.

“But I don’t want you getting the wrong impression about me because of that trust fund thing. I mean, I don’t want to sit around on my ass all my life consuming. I know I don’t have to work but I want to. I want to work at doing something, anything, until I figure out just what it is I want to spend the rest of my life doing.”

“Like your coffeeshop idea,” Morgan suggested.

“Right. And who knows, maybe that won’t pan out but at least I want to work at making a go of it. And I know what you’re thinking: Poor little rich girl pretending to be one of the working class. But I’m just not wired to live a life of idleness. I want to have a reason to get out of bed each morning. I’ve worked all sorts of jobs. Let’s see…I’ve worked at an Amazon warehouse; I’ve been a dog-walker; I’ve even been a receptionist at a law firm. And if I am able to open my own coffeeshop, I want to get my hands dirty doing it. God, I sound so corny!”

Morgan laughed.

“I was actually thinking that my date sounds like a pretty remarkable young woman,” she said.

“Really?”

“I promise. Although, if this thing of ours goes beyond one date, I may hold you to that dinner in Paris idea.”

Chapter 16

Morgan had to admit that the restaurant Chloë picked was amazing, and certainly more high-end than a typical tapas place. It was also perfect for a date: dim lighting, candlelit tables, a great wine selection. There was even a large Game of Thrones-style stone fireplace with an enormous blaze going.

And the food was amazing. Between them, Morgan and Chloë shared plates of diver scallops, striped bass with saffron rice, braised short ribs and even a vegetarian paella.

While they waited for their server to return with their desserts—the Meyer lemon cheesecake for Morgan and the bread pudding for Chloë—the younger woman leaned forward and asked, “So?”

Morgan smiled.

“Are you about to ask me how I’m liking my first date with a woman?”

Chloë giggled.

“How did you know?”

Morgan lifted a brow.

“I’m a teacher, remember? I know how to read teenagers.”

“I’m not a teenager anymore!”

Morgan scoffed.

“Barely!”