The Big Boss

She smirks, a look that I could get used to. “I told you to be casual. I, however, never get to dress up at all. Besides, this isn’t even that fancy.”

“You look beautiful.”

I nearly miss the subtle blush on her cheeks, but it’s there for a moment. “Thank you.”

“So Lena’s?”

“It’s really good, and it seemed like it’s not something you would usually do. Very grungy. Not well known.”

I grin at her. “Again with all the assumptions. You’re right about one thing, I haven’t been here. But unlike what you seem to think, I’m very open to new experiences.”

Justine twists her lips to keep from smiling. “Fair enough. Let’s see how you do.”

She leads me inside the restaurant, and already I love the atmosphere. There are low hanging lights and living plants growing from moss farms in the walls. It feels a little like walking into a tropical paradise, and it feels even more that way when we exit onto a back patio with quaint tables and alcoves enclosed with sheer netting. We settle in one of those and wait for a server to come take our order.

I can already see another reason she wanted to come here when I look at the menu. The food is almost criminally inexpensive. Doing the math in my head, I almost can’t imagine how this place breaks even.

“Before you ask how they stay open,” she says, “the owner is independently wealthy and wanted to create a space that provides low cost, healthy food for the community. But it’s so popular that they break even a good portion of the time.”

I raise my eyebrows. “That’s really impressive.”

“Yeah, it is.”

“Are you vegan?”

She shakes her head. “No. Vegetarian. But this place is one of my favorite places to eat. It’s amazing, and you really can’t beat the prices.”

I look over the menu, and it does look amazing. When the waiter comes, Justine orders carrot and turmeric soup with roasted beans, and I order a ravioli pomodoro with cashews and tofu.

When our orders are taken, I notice her looking at me. “What?”

She blushes again. “Nothing, you just look nice out of the suit.”

Primal satisfaction twists in my gut. I know I look good, but seeing the look in her eyes when she says it is an entirely different experience.

“You know what else is vegan?” she asks as the waiter brings back our food along with two shot glasses. “Vodka.”

Justine takes hers and knocks it back, and I watch her swallow. Keep it together, Keenan. It’s barely the beginning of dinner. You don’t need to be sporting a boner the whole time. “I think I knew that,” I say. “But it’s always a little bit weird to think about.”

The alcohol burns down my throat. Vodka isn’t my usual go-to, but I’ll take it. Anything to loosen us both up from the tension that’s between us. It’s a comfortable tension, but there is something strong connecting us. A connection that seems inexplicable.

And just as Justine predicted, the food is absolutely amazing. “Wow.”

“I know right? It’s so good. I come here for lunch all the time.”

“Good to know.”

“Oh, you’re going to start stalking me?” She laughs.

I laugh. “Maybe. The only reason I didn’t look you up last night was because I forgot to ask your name.”

Justine leans closer to me, and I’m not even sure that she realizes when she does it. “Well you know it now.”

“Yes,” I say. “I know that you’re Justine. You work at a non-profit that helps the elderly. Your best friend is an excellent florist.” I lean close to whisper in her ear. “And your pussy tastes and feels like heaven.

She’s frozen in a blush when I pull away. It’s not a lie. Not even close to one. And that thing between us grows stronger. But as much as I would like to, I can’t take her on the table in the middle of the restaurant.

Justine lifts her hand, and the waiter appears with two more vodka shots. She throws it back. “And other than the fact that you’re richer than god, hot, and own a business, I know nothing about you.”

“I’m normal. Just like you. I work too much, enjoy a good glass of whiskey at the end of the day.” There’s more to me of course, but I need to win her over further before she’ll accept that I’m more than a stereotype. So instead I turn the questions back on her. Her favorite color is blue, she’s a morning person, and her last name is Jackson.

Over the course of the conversation, we move closer and closer together, and by the time we’re both finished with our plates, our legs are touching and we’re practically sharing breath.

She calls the waiter over and pays the bill, and as she’s handing it back, I catch her hand. “I’m not ready for this to be over yet.”