Page 27 of British Daddy to Go

Sean

Maggie is sitting on the stoop when I pull up to her apartment building. Her pale blue dress is astonishing, falling to her knees with a neckline that shows just enough cleavage to make my pants a bit tight.

“Hi,” she greets me when I climb from the car. “Thanks for picking me up.”

“Of course, but I would have come to the door.”

She glances behind her and shrugs. “It was no trouble to wait outside, really.”

“Okay. Well, shall we go, then?”

Maggie smiles. “Yes! Let’s go.”

I open the back door of the town car for her, and she climbs in gracefully. Once she’s safely in, I jog to the other side and return to my seat.

“I’ve never been in a town car before!” she exclaims. “This is exciting.”

I take her hand. “It’s much easier than driving around yourself.”

“Oh, well, I usually take the subway to get around. Or I walk. I’m a big fan of walking.”

She looks out the window, her cheeks red.

“Hey, don’t be embarrassed,” I tell her. “It’s refreshing to see your excitement.”

This coaxes a smile from her as she squeezes my hand. “Thank you. So, where are we going?”

“I thought we’d go to my favorite restaurant in the city. Do you like Italian food?”

She giggles. “I do. Just don’t order me calamari.”

I wrinkle my brow. “I would do no such thing.”

“Sorry, I know that. My friend was telling me about a date she had where he was horrible, and he ordered food for her. To make matters worse, she’s been a vegetarian since she was twelve, and he ordered calamari for her!”

“I promise not to order food on your behalf. I assume you are capable of making your own choices, and I would never want to take that away from you.”

“That’s what makes you an incredible guy.”

My heartbeat picks up speed. “I’m glad to hear you say that.”

My driver, Stefan, pulls up to the valet at Pietros. I try to hide the shake in my hand as I hand him a cash tip and let him know I’ll call when we’re ready to head home. Maggie is already out of the car before I have a chance to open her door.

I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants and take her hand. “Thank you for coming out with me tonight.”

“Thank you for inviting me,” she says nervously. “I should be honest; this is my first date.”

I stop walking. “Your first date?” I ask. She’s not that young, is she? I’m not about to walk into a restaurant with an underage girl.

“I know that’s crazy for a twenty-five-year-old, but I have my reasons.”

“I’d like to hear all about them,” I tell her, feeling relieved. At least I know she’s legal. Knowing this is her first date makes me want to get to know her better, too. What kind of a life has she led to be so sheltered?

Inside the restaurant, the hostess leads us to our table. I have a standing reservation here on Friday nights for business meetings. I’ve never brought a date with me before, and the waiter’s surprise tells me he’s noticed this.

“Welcome,” he says in a heavy Italian accent. “It is a pleasure to see you again, Mr. Jones.”

“And you, as well. This is Maggie.”