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Rick patted me on the shoulder and began to race towards the kitchen. The rest of the family followed. Odette looked at the hipster, then me.
In French, she said, “I must go. Glad you are well.”
“Yes, you, too, beautiful.”
Back off, Romeo!I gave him a look to kill, and he stared back at me as if I didn’t matter.
I trotted to keep up with Rick and The Queen, ending up breathless when we arrived back at the table. There, I was practically usurped by Rick the Charmer. I made introductions before Rick insisted—at the annoyance of the waiting executive chef—that he and Odette were passionate about transportation. He forced Odette to sit next to me. Stephen, who had only been taking this all in visually and trying to keep the conversation going, looked dubious.
“I’m sorry to cramp your style,” Odette said flatly as Rick led the conversation.
I could tell she was disinterested in seeing me, and I had to accept that. She texted to ensure we got home okay, but I ghosted her. I could blame it on being busy, but it came out of insecurity and unfair comparison. She deserved an explanation.
“Odie, I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“You didn’t. You just proved a lot in the process.”
Ouch.
“I should apologise and explain that I like you loads. I reacted from a fear of the unknown, and… we should talk more later.”
Thankfully, between Rick and Stephen, the French were entertained. Alexandra was happy to be eating the sea bass before her.
“This is glorious.” She moaned as if the food were orgasmic. “Just delicious, isn’t it?”
Odette took a bite of a vegan tart. “Delightful.”
“It’s fine. Nice, even,” Parker said. I had a feeling that was a good grade by Parker’s standards.
Astrid smacked his arm, “It’s delicious. Don’t be rude.”
“Darling, I wasn’t. I said it was nice.”
She gave him a look.Thelook. He calmed.
Odette picked at her food. I marvelled at how elegantly she held her fork. How the hell could that beelegant? It was like she attended a school for princesses or something. Was that a thing? Trying not to say anything else that would get me in trouble, I looked down—spotting not just a bit of cleavage but also her thighs. Her dress tucked up relatively short at this angle. The impulse to put my hand between herthighs was overwhelming. I needed to focus. I was at a business meeting with important people, concentrating on a critical task I’d worked hard to complete. Yet, instead of focusing on that, I fought an erection and wondered if I’d ever win her back.
“After this, let’s go around the block to that Jazz club,” I whispered. “We should chat.”
“You haven’t spoken to me in over a week. Do you think that wise?” Odette’s voice wasn’t cold. It was vulnerable. I’d hurt her.
“I…. I… I’m sorry. I was a dick,” I apologised. “But… I got frightened and very busy with work.”
Yes, Wyatt, make her feel like she is the least important thing on your radar.
“Regardless, I owe you a drink and some one-on-one time. Could you give me the chance?”
She looked at me with her big blue eyes—eyes that showed pain, not interest.
“I don’t know if I should. Ingrid is in town.”
“Another time?”
“You don’t have to do this,” Odette said.
“I want to. I want to see you—to spend time with you.”
“Fine,” she agreed. “You have thirty minutes after dinner wraps to convince me to stay longer.”