Page 2

Chapter two

Cecilia

Excuse m-… Never mind, proceed! *Activate pretty eyes*

Chez Milano. You’d think with a name like that it would consist of French dining, but given the menu in my hand, it seems mostly Italian.

I’m not complaining; I love Italian dishes, but I won’t lie that it caught me by surprise.

That’s probably why it’s taking me so long to pick something off the menu.

This place is elegantly beautiful with large, tinted windows lining the restaurant’s facade. Notes of fresh bread and garlic drift throughout the space. An ivory cream color paints the top half of the walls and finishes off with dark wooden planks running vertically down the bottom half.

Square tables topped with immaculate white linens and silverware tucked neatly within a burgundy red cloth napkin fills the space.

Up above, exposed dark cherry wood beams line the ceiling, with low pendant lights hanging above every table.

The place gives off an intimate atmosphere between lovers, which just amplifies my discomfort at the fact that I’m sitting here alone.

I haven’t yet grown accustomed to dining on my own, but given that I only moved to New York a month ago, I don’t know many people here yet. Excluding my co-workers and best friend, Emma, who happened to get me a job with her at Wilson Events as an event planner.

I’ve been trying to do more things that are out of my comfort zone, become a more adventurous version of myself. So, when I passed in front of Chez Milano on my way home after a long day at work, I made a split-second decision to come inside and try it out.

As I stare off into the menu, debating between two pasta dishes, I notice movement out of the corner of my eye seconds before the chair in front of me is pulled out and a large body seats themself.

My head instantly snaps up to take in whoever in their right mind would have the audacity to simply invite themselves to have dinner at my table without asking for permission first. But just as I go to tell the stranger they must have the wrong table or is mistaking me for someone else, my breathing halts.

Because there, sitting in front of me, must be the most gorgeous man I have ever laid eyes on. He could easily make the gods themselves blush. Wow…

His head is currently downcast as he adjusts his chair toward the table between us, which gives me just enough time to check him out quickly.

Dear God, that is a fine specimen.

Broad shoulders stretch out the fabric of his navy-blue dress shirt, the material hugging generously built biceps that I would love to squeeze with my hands.

He has a beautiful, chiseled jaw with a 5 o’clock shadow growing in and dark brown hair that curls slightly at his nape.

The length is just long enough to pass your hand through it and hold on to when needed.

At the top of his head, a lone rogue strand falls over his forehead, right before he passes long, thick fingers through his chestnut-colored hair in an attempt to put it back into place.

It’s then I realize his head is no longer looking down, making my eyes snap back to his face only to find his eyes locked on mine in a primal gaze.

He has the most mesmerizing green eyes framed by long lashes that would make any woman jealous.

A slightly crooked nose that clearly has been broken before but only adds to his charm.

And full lips that I’d love to bite into after a long makeout session.

God, just the thought makes my thighs squeeze together beneath the table.

He regards me with a knowing smirk on his lips. Shit, he caught me checking him out. My cheeks instantly flush at the same time my eyes grow wide, which makes his smirk turn into a full-blown smile with perfect white teeth shining through. Ugh! That smile!

“Umm... hi?” I say nervously.

“Hello.”

Of course, he has to have a deep, gravelly voice to go with his godlike looks.

He reaches for the menu that lies flat on the table in front of me with a large, rugged hand and starts browsing through the options, like this is a completely normal situation. I’m at a loss for words with no idea what’s going on.

I lean in closer, hoping to catch his attention without gaining any from others around us. “I’m sorry, but I think you’re at the wrong table.”

Not looking up from the menu, he smiles, acknowledging he heard me before replying, “No, I’m pretty sure this is the right one.”

Just as I go to tell him he’s wrong, a waiter shows up at our sides, puts down a place setting for Mr. Handsome, then proceeds to ask if he can start us off with a beverage. But I’m too caught up in my head to pay any attention to the words being exchanged between the two of them.

What the hell is going on!?

That is until the beautiful stranger turns his questioning gaze to me as if waiting for my response.

Wait, did he ask me a question? Oh God, now he must really think I’m stupid; I should have been listening.

I look up to the waiter to see if he’s still there, and yup, he’s there all right, also staring right back at me.

Okay, now I’m positive he asked me a question.

“Excuse me?”

“Is that okay?”

“Umm... yeah, yes! It’s perfect, thank you.” I have no idea what I just agreed to, but it should be fine. Everything is fine.

The waiter proceeds to pick up our menus and leaves, which makes me realize he left without even taking my order.

I raise my hand to call him back when I hear the stranger chuckle.

I turn back his way, completely lost with what’s happening, and watch him sit back in the chair he claimed as he begins to roll up his sleeves.

OH MY GOD... those forearms!

They come straight from a woman’s wet dreams. Thick and roped with well-defined veins that run all the way down to those big, knuckled hands.

I can see the beginning of a tattoo near his right elbow, which I imagine leads up the rest of his arm.

I swear my lady bits tingle just from the sight of the best arm porn I’ve ever seen.

“You didn’t hear a word I said, did you?”

“Um, no. Not exactly,” I blush.

His head falls back as he lets this deep, throaty laugh out. I watch with fascination as his Adam’s apple bobs up and down from the force of the laughter, completely stunned to silence.

Once his laugh subsides, he brings his head back down and wipes the corner of his eyes with a toothy smile etched on his face. All while I stare at him—eternally dumbfounded.

“I have to admit, I admire your honesty. So, what you’re saying is that you simply agreed to something without any knowledge of what it was?

I could have ordered you the most unappealing dish on the menu, and now you’d be forced to eat it because you agreed to.

” He arches a brow, that smirk back in its place.

“It’s not because it lacks in appeal that it means it won’t be good. For all you know, it may be the very best dish they serve here.” I lean back in the chair and cross my arms over my chest, satisfied with my own response.

He studies me for a moment before smiling wide. Stop smiling! My lady parts can’t take much more... “Point well made,” he says with a nod.

We stare at each other with clear amusement painted on both our faces, but after a brief moment, I let out a heavy sigh of defeat and drop my gaze to the tablecloth.

I start to delicately trace the barely visible patterns in the fabric with the tip of my index finger before breaking the silence that’s fallen on us.

“You’re right, I probably shouldn’t have just gone along with what you said. But in my defense, I’m a bit confused at what’s happening here.” I point a finger from me to him and back.

“I guess I should put you out of your misery.” He chuckles.

“That would be very kind of you, yes.”

He grins while studying me. It’s as if he’s trying to memorize every inch of me by heart. Then, he leans forward, resting his forearms along the table. “That’s a shame, I kind of liked seeing you all flustered.” He chuckles at the expression of embarrassment on my face.

“See, the thing is, I don’t really enjoy eating alone in crowded places.” He watches my finger go about like it’s the most fascinating thing he’s ever seen before speaking up again. “People tend to think it’s appropriate for them to come up to my table every five minutes and interrupt my meal.”

I look up at him, a bit confused by his words. “Why would people bother you?”

That comment seems to catch his attention, emerald eyes boring into my hazel ones with a serious look, as if realization has just dawned on him. Although I’m not quite sure of what.

I’m expecting him to grant me a reply, yet all I get is a deep, pensive “hmm” from him as he says, “You really don’t know who I am, do you?”

“Am I supposed to?”

His smile returns with that little chuckle of his again. “No, I suppose not. Although most people here do.”

“Well, then I guess that makes it pretty obvious that I’m not from around here.”

The waiter chooses that moment to return to our table, pouring us each a glass of what looks like expensive wine with a promise of returning shortly with our meals. We both take our time savoring the wine, falling once again into a deep silence as we examine one another.

After what feels like hours, when really it must have only been a minute or so, I decide it’s time for introductions since he’s made it clear he has no intention of leaving.

“I think this would be an appropriate time for introductions; what do you say?” My statement causes his beautiful face to break into a genuinely amused smile .

I outstretch my hand in his direction, waiting for him to take hold of it. When his strong, calloused hand grabs onto my dainty one, my brain falters at the sheer difference in size. His hand alone completely engulfs mine.

I didn’t have the chance to see him standing, but clearly with the little amount of him I’ve seen so far, this man is huge in every sense of the word. I wonder what else of him is huge...

A blush forms over my heated cheeks as the thought crosses my mind. I give him a timid smile, fearing he may be able to read where my thoughts just went. “Cecilia Rose, it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Beautiful name for an equally beautiful woman.”

I can physically feel the blush on my cheeks deepen from the simple comment, and judging by the way his eyes light up at my reaction, he can tell the effect he already has on me.

“Silas Hayes, at your service.”

“At my service? Dangerous choice of words. What if I were to claim needing a foot massage?”

“We’ll get to that later,” he delivers his words with a smile and a wink.

“Wow, someone’s cocky.” I giggle.

“Just one of my many traits,” he says with a heartfelt laugh, clearly amused with himself, which gains him a smile from me.

Our food arrives shortly after, and it turns out whatever Silas chose on my behalf is absolutely amazing. Five stars to the chef. The conversation continues to flow easily between us with no awkward moments of silence.

We go around asking each other questions like where we’re from.

Me, the small town of Elora, Ontario. Him, New York, born and raised.

How long have I been in New York, and how am I liking it so far?

About a month, and besides the amount of foot traffic, I love it.

What do I do for work? I tell him all about the event planning company I work for and the upcoming event Emma and I are working on.

His facial features show genuine interest in the things I’m saying, which is a big contrast to what I’m used to.

Most men I’ve been on dates with in the past have asked me the same question, but when I get into details of what I do, they seem bored or change the topic quickly.

It’s fair to say that not many of them were given a second date.

When in return I ask him about his career, he answers evasively with a simple, “professional athlete.” But he gives no further details.

I can tell by the way he breaks eye contact to look down at his now empty plate and starts fiddling with his fork that this isn’t a subject he wants to elaborate on at the moment. So, I decide not to pry any deeper on the matter. Everyone is entitled to some privacy.

We each go on to ordering dessert while finishing off the rest of the wine bottle, deep in conversation about everything and anything, from childhood memories to the disgusting food truck on Sixth Avenue.

Once our plates are cleared and the wine is done, the waiter comes back with the check that Silas insists on paying since he technically crashed my dinner, even though it turned out to be quite a delightful evening.

Watching him take a final sip of his remaining water, I stand from my seat and begin to slip into my double-breasted beige trench coat, fastening the belt in place. With my back to the table, I hear a distinctive choking sound before it turns into a coughing fit.

I spin around quickly to find Silas banging his chest with one fist, while his other hand rests over his mouth as he tries to stop himself. I stand frozen before him, unsure if he needs help or not.

Once he regains control of the situation, he clears his throat with his focus entirely on me and begins to stand. The higher my eyes travel, the wider they become. I swear, this man must be as tall as Bigfoot.

“OH... DEAR... GOD...”