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B efore the mirror, I held up a simple yet elegant black dress, surrounded by a sea of discarded options. With only thirty minutes to spare, I knew I had to decide—fast—if I was going to make it to my dinner date with Zeke on time. Correction: dinner, not a date, I reminded myself sharply. We were just friends.
With a flick of my wrist, my hair tumbled down my back, curls catching the golden light like autumn leaves. A touch of serum smoothed the waves, leaving them polished and luminous.
Tonight called for something bolder. I swept on dramatic strokes of makeup, each brush blending into effortless perfection. A swipe of my signature red lipstick sealed the transformation, rich and unforgettable.
Slipping into scarlet stilettos, their velvety curves hugging my feet, I rose to my full height. Excitement hummed beneath my skin, a pulse of anticipation thrumming through me. Tonight, I was ready.
Grabbing my purse from the bed, I hurried downstairs. My heels clicked sharply on the steps as I descended into the foyer. A quick note for Reggie seemed prudent, just in case he returned home before I did. One could never be too cautious. I scribbled, “Out shopping, be back soon. Dinner’s in the crockpot,” then slapped the message on the fridge, deliberately omitting the true details. I wasn’t about to risk sparking his curiosity—or worse, his interference.
Giovanni’s was too far to walk, leaving me no choice but to drive. I slid behind the wheel of my weathered minivan, its faded blue body, mismatched hood, and rusty tailpipe scraping against the pavement like a reluctant sigh. The exterior was a patchwork of battle scars: chipped paint, dull chrome, and bald tires.
Inside, the previous owner’s makeshift repairs were obvious. Duct tape and safety pins held together the torn upholstery, the carpet was frayed, and the dashboard cracked .
Yet despite its flaws, the engine sputtered to life, its clattering rhythm a defiant declaration of survival. The knocking grew more insistent with every mile, a harsh reminder of the van’s age. The exhaust rasped with each turn, echoing down the street.
As I pulled into Giovanni’s parking lot, Zeke’s sleek black BMW gleamed under the lights, a polished stone among the sea of humble vehicles. I purposefully parked as far from him as possible, choosing a spot in the shadows on the opposite side of the lot.
When I slammed the minivan door behind me, the crash resonated in the quiet evening air. With purpose, I made my way toward the restaurant’s entrance, the neon sign overhead casting a seductive glow.
Just outside, Zeke stood waiting. His gaze found me instantly, slow and deliberate, taking in every detail.
“Wow, you’re…absolutely gorgeous,” he stammered, his words tumbling out in a nervous rush. “I mean, you always are, but tonight…you’re just…breathtaking.”
Watching him, usually so self-assured, fumble for words pulled a real smile from me. There was something strangely gratifying about seeing him thrown off. I thought I saw the faintest flush rise to his cheeks—but maybe it was just the uneven light playing tricks.
I closed the distance, slipping my arm through his and looking up at him with a teasing grin. “Thanks, you’re looking pretty handsome yourself. ”
As we stepped into the vibrant restaurant, the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses surrounding us, I glanced around at the crowd and asked, “Do you think we need a reservation? This place is packed.”
The hostess greeted us with a warm “Hello,” and Zeke flashed her a charming, disarming smile. “Reservation for Ezekiel, please.” He plucked an invisible piece of lint from his suit with a touch of nonchalance before turning to me, wiggling his eyebrows playfully. “All taken care of,” he said.
Her poised expression faltered as her gaze lingered on Zeke, her fingers tightening slightly around the podium. For a fleeting second, she seemed entranced by him, her breath hitching just enough to be noticeable. “O-of course,” she stammered, quickly tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear. “F-follow me.”
At our table, Zeke smoothly pulled out my chair, waiting for me to settle in before making his way around to take his seat. His movements were fluid, practiced, like a choreographed dance.
I was utterly bewitched by his gallantry. It felt like I’d stepped into a romantic comedy, where the leading man was effortlessly sweeping me off my feet with his charm.
“Good thinking on the reservation, Ezekiel ,” I teased, gently poking fun at him for using his full name.
A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face, his posture subtly sharpening as his fingers idly adjusted his tie. “ Every now and then, I surprise myself with a good idea.”
Once we were settled, our waiter approached, menus in hand. “Good evening! I’m Noah, your server for tonight. Can I start you off with some drinks?”
Noah’s attention shifted to me first, his eyes briefly meeting mine with polite curiosity. “Just water, please,” I said with a soft smile, my hands resting comfortably in my lap. Then he turned to Zeke, who settled into his chair with the calm of someone used to being in charge.
“Diet Coke for me. Bring one for her too, in case she changes her mind. And a bottle of wine for the table.”
With a nod, Noah jotted down our order. “Got it! I’ll be right back with those,” he said before disappearing into the bustling restaurant, leaving us to peruse the menu.
I narrowed my eyes at him, my lips twitching as I tried to keep a straight face. “What if I’m a sworn enemy of Diet Coke?” I challenged, then widened my eyes in false alarm. “What if I’m allergic to it, and you’re playing with my life here?!”
Zeke lowered his menu, studying my face with one eyebrow arched. “I refuse to believe something as trivial as Diet Coke could be your downfall,” he said, returning his attention to the food options. “You strike me as the type with a Diet Coke addiction, not a life-threatening allergy.”
I struggled to hold my serious expression, but a giggle slipped out, betraying me. “You’re absolutely right,” I confessed, laughter spilling from me. “It’s my favorite. You’re either psychic or just really lucky.”
His eyes flicked back to mine before he leaned in, his voice dropping low, like a secret meant only for me. Something about him shifted in that moment, and I couldn’t ignore the feeling that the air had thickened. “Would you believe me if I told you I’m a little of both?”
This man was a shameless flirt, and he knew exactly how to play the game. So did I.
I mirrored his movement, leaning in just as close, my heart pounding in my chest. “Oh yeah? So, what am I thinking right now?” The space between us shrank, our breaths falling into sync.
He tapped his forehead, pretending to think deeply, then widened his eyes as if struck by a sudden, profound realization. “Wait, hold up. Are you seriously thinking about how ridiculously hot I am?” His grin stretched wider. “You naughty thing. I knew I had that effect on you.”
I sat back in my chair, arms crossing loosely over my chest as I looked him squarely in the eyes. “Has anyone ever told you you’re a little full of yourself?”
A low, muffled laugh shook his shoulders as he drawled, “Me? Never.” His voice carried a teasing edge, but beneath it, there was a subtle intensity, something deeper and more mysterious, hinting at a side of him I hadn’t yet seen .
Just then, the waiter arrived, setting our drinks down with a soft clink. As he poured the wine, its rich, fragrant aroma swirled into the air, deep and inviting. The scent was a perfect balance of fruit and earth, warm and smooth, like the first hint of fall. It was subtle but present, settling comfortably in my senses.
As he turned to take our orders, his gaze landed on me first. I froze, the menu suddenly too thick in my hands. I hadn’t even looked at it. Panic hit, and I fumbled to open it, my heart pounding.
Before my anxiety could fully grip me, Zeke’s smooth voice sliced through the tension. “How do you feel about steak?” he asked, his tone radiating the confident elegance that seemed to define him. “Their filet mignon is incredible.”
I paused, still trying to collect myself. “Uh, yeah, that sounds great,” I said, lowering the menu. Our eyes met, and a sense of tranquility settled over me.
Zeke’s expression softened, his gaze steady as he held my attention. “Make it two of the filet mignon,” he said, handing over the menus with practiced ease.
Once the details were settled, the waiter cheerfully assured us, “I’ll have that right out.”
“Thanks, Noah,” Zeke replied, his voice smooth and inviting, like honey. A soothing warmth enveloped me at the sound of it, and before I knew it, I felt an unexpected pull toward him .
The sensation made me self-conscious, and I quickly redirected my thoughts. I silently hoped the bill wouldn’t be too extravagant. I didn’t want Zeke to think I was taking advantage of his generosity. Offering to cover the tip seemed like a small way to show my appreciation without overstepping.
“So, I’ve been dying to go on another hike,” he said, taking a long, leisurely sip of his wine. “Do you have any more hidden gems like Dead Man’s Trail that we could explore?”
I hesitated, a flutter of uncertainty twisting in my chest. My fingers traced the rim of my glass as I thought. “I do have another trail in mind, but…I’m not as familiar with it. Hopefully, I won’t get us lost.”
Zeke’s face lit up with excitement, his hands rubbing together eagerly. “Yes! I am so down for this!”
I bit my lip, doubts resurfacing as I spoke. “Hold on, I’m a little worried about being responsible for getting us there. I’ve only finished the trail once, and…it wasn't exactly easy. Maybe we should find an easier one?” I suggested, my voice tentative.
“No way!” he protested, his belief in me so evident it almost seemed to rub off. “You’ve done it once. That basically makes you an expert, right?”
A soft laugh slipped out as I let out an exaggerated sigh, my eyes drifting toward the ceiling. “Alright, alright, you’re right. It’ll be fun,” I said, trying to convince myself more than anyone.
The meals were placed before us with quiet precision, the aromas filling the air as our little world seemed to shrink around the table.
The dish was exquisite, a culinary masterpiece that exploded with flavor on my tongue. Thoughts of Reggie crept in, imagining the fit he’d throw if I’d dared order filet mignon on one of our monthly dinner dates. He always made a point of flaunting the bill, subtly reminding me of the price he’d paid, as though to make me feel indebted to him. It was never about the food. It was always about the power he held over me, the unspoken weight of the favor.
When the waiter came to clear our plates, he handed the bill to Zeke without a second glance. Zeke studied the total for a moment, then casually slipped a few large bills into the holder, his fingers brushing the paper with effortless precision. Without waiting for change, he stood, his movements smooth and assured, as if he'd already decided it was time to go.
I reached for my purse, fumbling through it for my wallet. “Wait, let me cover the tip,” I said, a pang of guilt twisting inside me.
But he was already at my side, hand extended to help me up. “Don’t worry about it,” he said with a reassuring smile. “I’ve got it covered. Besides, remember—you’re in charge of ice cream. I spotted the perfect place just a few blocks from here. ”
I smiled, grateful, and gave him a nod as I rose from my chair. “Thanks for dinner. That was…really nice.”
He shot me a quick glance as we neared the door, his usual cool demeanor momentarily melting into something softer. “You’re welcome,” he said, his tone genuine. “I’m glad you enjoyed it.”
We stepped out into the crisp fall air, the scent of pumpkin and fallen leaves drifting around us. There was a certain comfort in his presence. His strong, masculine energy, balanced by an unexpected tenderness, pulled me in like gravity.
As we walked, the sounds of the small town faded into the background, and for a brief moment, it felt like it was just the two of us. The idea that I had once considered him a hitman seemed almost laughable now. This gentle soul, who was as kind as he was confident, was the last person I could imagine capable of violence.
We approached the ice cream parlor, and the colorful sign above the door promised a sweet treat inside. The bell jingled as we entered, and the warm, inviting scent of freshly baked waffle cones and melting chocolate filled the air. We moved toward the vibrant display case, scanning the array of flavors with the same eager excitement as children. My mouth watered at the sight of it all.
“What’s your favorite flavor?” Zeke asked, his eyes alight with curiosity, his voice low and inviting, like a soft summer breeze. He tilted his head slightly, as if waiting on my answer.
“Honestly, I’m not that adventurous when it comes to ice cream,” I admitted. “I usually just go for chocolate, but…maybe I’ll mix it up. Live a little.” I raised an eyebrow, the challenge clear in my gaze, before turning to the server. “Two scoops of chocolate, please.”
I glanced over my shoulder at him, giving a casual shrug. “Or maybe not.”
His smile remained steady, as though he was genuinely enjoying this simple moment with me. Then, leaning easily against the counter, he said, “I’ll have the same, please.”
After I paid, we wandered outside and settled onto a bench with an unbeatable view of the mountains. The setting sun bathed everything in a warm, golden glow, casting long shadows across the landscape. A gentle breeze ruffled our hair as we sat in comfortable silence, each of us savoring our ice cream.
Zeke broke the quiet. “What do you dream about, Bryn?” His gaze locked onto mine, and I felt a flutter in my chest, a blush creeping up my neck.
I chuckled nervously, focusing on my ice cream to avoid his intense gaze. “Whoa, right to the heavy questions, huh?”
He brushed a stray lock of hair from his face, the warm glow of the setting sun catching the tips of his lashes as he watched me. “I’m just curious. You seem like someone who’s going places, and I’d love to know more about your aspirations.”
I snorted in amusement. “ Me? Going places?” I shook my head, a smile tugging at my lips. “The only place I’m headed is the diner. Trust me, I’ve come to terms with it.” I ran a hand through my wind-tousled hair. “But…if I could choose, I’d be a fashion designer—or maybe a stylist. Or even better, someone whose job is just trying on amazing outfits all day.” I giggled, the thought lifting my mood.
“Honestly, that sounds like an amazing career to me,” Zeke said, grinning as he adjusted his cufflinks. “Maybe we can both land a gig doing that. I’m all for a good suit.” His tone shifted slightly, the playfulness softening. “But seriously, don’t settle just because it’s familiar. You’ve got the power to create your own destiny. You might not have a huge cheering section, but I’m your number one fan. Always rooting for you.” He added a wink, his smile genuine.
It felt surreal to have someone like Zeke, someone who believed in me with such unwavering faith, both humbling and empowering. Having an authentic friend who accepted me without judgment or condition was a refreshing contrast to the criticisms and doubts I’d carried for years.
Reggie’s scoffs and disapproving glares flashed in my mind, the harsh voices of my past ringing loud against Zeke’s steady support. I could almost hear Reggie’s mocking laughter, dismissing my dreams as foolish.
As I gazed at him, a question stirred within me about the woman who had captured his heart. What kind of person could let a man as extraordinary as him slip away? I sensed there was more to the story, a chapter he kept hidden, one I was hesitant to pry into. Still, a pull nudged at me.
A lump formed in my throat, and an unbearable thought crossed my mind. Had she passed away, leaving Zeke with a heart shattered in ways he couldn’t repair? The weight of that possibility settled over me, its sting sharp and undeniable. I longed to offer him the same comfort he’d given me, to show him there was still hope, still warmth. But as the thought lingered, a quiet, unnerving realization took root: deep down, he might be just as broken as I often felt inside.
“You’re a good man, Ezekiel,” I said, lifting my chin in a subtle show of respect.
He paused mid-lick, narrowing his eyes into slits. “I can’t tell if you’re being serious or sarcastic.” He smirked, picking up his ice cream again. “Either way, I’ll take the compliment. Who doesn’t love a little flattery?”
“I should’ve known that would go straight to your head,” I teased, my voice light and playful as I nudged him with my elbow.
Once we finished our ice cream, we strolled back toward the restaurant, our pace slow and unhurried, savoring the peace of the evening. The stars twinkled above us, casting a soft glow over the world while the streetlights painted long shadows at our feet.
“What’s your schedule like over the next few weeks?” Zeke asked, his hands casually tucked in his pockets as he walked with an easy, relaxed stride. “I’d love to lock in a day for hiking before we head out.”
“I’m on strike from the diner,” I said, a hint of defiance in my tone. “Well…more like I’m on strike from Sal, but that’s a whole other story.” I rolled my eyes to make my point. “So, my schedule’s pretty open right now.”
His expression instantly brightened, a spark of excitement flickering in his eyes as he spun to face me, his movement so quick it nearly collided with mine. “Oh, perfect!” he exclaimed, his enthusiasm infectious. “Then let’s go tomorrow.”
A low, amused sound escaped me at his over-the-top delivery. “That should work. We can meet at the same spot. It’s right across from Dead Man’s Trail.”
“Great. I’ll be there at 8:00 AM,” he replied, his voice bright with energy. A mischievous glint lit up his eyes. “And we’re definitely revisiting that Sal situation tomorrow. I expect all the juicy details.”
“You’re such a gossip,” I said, laughing as I gave him a gentle push.
“Hey, come on. It’s just us girls here,” he said with a wink, pausing for dramatic effect. With an exaggerated flourish, he tossed his nonexistent hair over his shoulder, his goofy grin spreading wide. “A little drama’s just entertainment, that’s all,” he added, batting his lashes with mock innocence.
I shot him a sidelong glance, the corners of my mouth lifting despite myself. I shook my head, a quiet chuckle slipping out.
When we reached the restaurant, the parking lot was still packed with cars, Zeke’s BMW parked in a prime spot up front.
“Let me walk you to your car,” he offered, squinting as he surveyed the crowded space. “Where’d you park?”
I waved him off, trying to shoo him away. “No need. I’m all the way in the back. Go ahead and take off. But thanks for offering.”
Zeke’s expression turned stubborn. “Nonsense, I’ll walk you,” he said, already heading for the far end of the lot.
I quickly jumped in front of him, forcing a smile that was more awkward than convincing. “No, seriously. It’s fine. You don’t have to.”
He hesitated, eyes narrowing slightly as he studied me. “Alright, if you insist.” Then, with a playful grin, he held out his fist for our usual handshake.
I stared at it. “Are we really going to do this every time?”
His expression turned downright triumphant. “Every. Single. Time. ”
After our quick fist bump and a few final goodbyes, Zeke slid into his car and sped off into the night. The roar of his engine gradually faded, marking the end of an evening that would linger in my memory forever.