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I frowned. “Why tomorrow?”
She narrowed her eyes at me, quickly flickering them to where Tatum stood and then back to me. “Just to make sure you’re able to fully enjoy lunch without worrying about rushing back.”
“I can’t keep working half days, Shan.”
“Of course you can. You’re the boss. See you tomorrow,” she added, with a little wave, at me and Tatum, that gave an air of finality like she was the actual boss.
“Just go with it, Aurora,” Tatum chuckled, reaching to grab my hand again. It was surprising how rapidly the dynamic of my day had changed, from buried in emails to face-to-face with a man determined to have my attention.
Which… was a shift in itself.
Even in the midst of his infidelity, Monty never made me feel unattractive, unwanted, none of that, which was kinda part of the mindfuck of it all. He didn’t not want me, he just also wanted… other women too. So it wasn’t as if being desired was something I’d been deprived of.
Being pursued, though?
This was a whole other feeling, one I was probably enjoying a bit too much, considering that barely two weeks had passed since the night of my birthday.
Not even that long, actually.
Damn.
Tatum gestured toward the door. “Shall we?”
I hesitated briefly, trying to absorb it all. Things around me were changing a little too fast for me to even stop and process it, to figure out if it was even healthy.
But then I took a deep breath, and nodded. “Yeah, let’s do it.”
“Oh, this shit is kind of swanky,” Tatum said once we were seated, tucked away in a quiet corner of the restaurant I’d only ever been seated in when I was with Sierra. I was trying not to be salty over the unexpected VIP treatment it took to get through the door last minute in the first place, and now special seating?
I was honestly the tiniest bit offended.
To be fair though, like I’d told him earlier, I wasn’t truly a celebrity. “Public figure” at best. And even then, I wasn’t nearly as recognizable as Tatum or Sierra, so there was, reasonably, more of a need for privacy than there was when I was with other friends or by myself.
It made sense.
But making sense didn’t make it not grate a little.
I was in my favorite restaurant though, so I’d get over it.
“Yeah, I love it here,” I told him, smiling at our server as they approached, tattoos peeking from under the collar and sleeves of the beautifully tailored black button-up that was part of their uniform, honestly a perfect visual for the upscale, eclectic vibe of the restaurant. “Have you not been here before?” I asked after the server had gotten our drink orders and promised to come back with a basket of the caramelized onion toast points I loved so damn much.
“Nah, I don’t find myself in Blackwood that often,” he answered. “Usually for some specific event. When I’m not in Connecticut, I usually go home?—”
“To Kentucky,” I added, remembering our conversation from the night before. “Kentucky is still surprising to me. I know you said people call you Country Boy Tate, but… the vibe isn’t super strong like that to me.”
He shrugged. “Only because we haven’t known each other very long yet. Give it a little time.”
“Ooh, are you saying you’re putting on a front?” I asked, and he chuckled.
“I’m saying you have to be around me a little longer for my mannerisms to tell the complete story,” he explained with a little smirk that set off a fresh round of butterflies in my chest.
I was so damn hooked.
Our stream of conversation was momentarily interrupted by the server coming back to drop off drinks and bread. Neither of us had really looked at the menu yet.
Tatum spoke up. “Hey, this is your spot, right? Why don’t you just order for both of us? We can get your favorite things and share.”
I raised an eyebrow. “You’re suggesting that we share? So you’re not gonna get mad about me wanting things off your plate?”