Page 50 of Fake Dating Mr. Prince

It amazed me how easy our conversation flowed. Sharing bits and pieces about my life came naturally. I hung on each of Ashlyn’s words. I wanted to know more about her and how her life experiences made her this sexy, incredible, lingerie-sewing goddess.

We parked in front of Sofia’s and got out as the valet opened our doors and greeted us. I called ahead, and the owner had set aside my favorite spot in the restaurant. It was secluded and would give us a chance to talk privately.

We ignored our menu for the first fifteen minutes as we kept getting sidetracked by our conversations.

“Let’s see, the movie or the book?” she asked. It was like playing a round of twenty questions, and I was stunned to find how much I was enjoying it. Most of my dates rarely asked about me and what I liked. It was a nice change that Ashlyn was the complete opposite.

“Movie.”

“Ugh, no, book. You’re seriously wounding me here. The book is always better.”

“Okay, then I take it back. If I don’t take you home in one piece, I think Stella’s going to send out a hit squad. Although, I bet she’d do it herself. I saw the glint of danger in her eyes as she assessed me.”

Ashlyn burst out in laughter so loud, tables near us turned to look. I loved how that didn’t matter to her. “Stella being a hitman, or is it hitwoman?” She waved her hand around. “Either way, that’s hysterical. She can’t even kill a bug. I’m deathly afraid of spiders, and I was the one that had to kill them when we were young.” She playfully shuddered.

“If you’re that dead set against bugs, is camping off the table for you?” Camping was how I got away from the world and the stress that went along with it.

“Hmmm, I’ve never been, but I think glamping is more my style.”

“Glamping?” I’d never heard the term before.

“Yeah, you know. It’s a resort-style campground. It’s far more comfortable from what I hear.”

I laughed. “Or you could just stay in a hotel.”

“That too.” She grinned back at me. “Do you like to go camping?”

“My dad took me camping when I was younger so we could bond. We had a lot of great trips and a few awful ones. He made family a priority, and I liked knowing it was just something for the two of us. My buddies and I also have an annual camping trip we go on every fall.”

“That sounds like a lot of fun. You’re lucky to have them.”

Our server walked up to the table. “Have you had a chance to take a look at the menu yet?”

“Could we have a few more minutes?” I asked. He’d already read us the specials and had been discreetly waiting nearby for us to be ready.

“Of course, take your time, sir. Can I get you a drink while you decide?”

Ashlyn nodded.

“We have a few bottles of 2015 Château d'Yquem that came in this week as part of our reserve collection. If you like white wine, you will love this one. It's a lovely, complex blend of seventy-five percent Sémillon and twenty-five percent Sauvignon Blanc with notes of fresh-cut orange, peach and nectarines on the front end, followed by notes of lightly singed almonds and pie crusts. It’s one of the best whites we’ve secured this year.”

“That does sound wonderful,” Ashlyn said as she cut her gaze toward me. Her eyes widened and I could tell most of what the server said probably sounded pretentious and unnecessary. But she was intrigued. I also knew that it was a damn good wine.

“Bring us a bottle,” I told the server.

He nodded his approval before saying, “I’ll be right back with that.”

Ashlyn stared at me.

“What?”

“Dean, it’s a reserve bottle. You didn’t even ask how much it was.”

Sometimes I forgot that not everyone lived the type of life I did. I didn’t ask how much it was because it didn’t matter. Plus I already knew how much it cost. Ashlyn had been intrigued by the wine, and I wanted to get it for her. It was as simple as that. “It’s not a problem.”

“Okay. It’s just—we were comfortable growing up, but your kind of wealth is a bit overwhelming.”

The server walked toward us with the bottle. “I can tell him to take it back if you want.”