Bad Boy Hero - Tanglewood Academy

It also reminds me, pretty starkly, what different worlds Keanen and I are from. He’s taking this all in stride, as if he’s accustomed to such luxury. And he is.

I shift in my seat, suddenly less enthralled by the scents wafting from our plates, as the server bows again and leaves us to our meal. I can’t help thinking that if I were ever to walk into a restaurant like this by myself, it would be in that server’s place. Never as a paying guest.

Isn’t that going to bother Keanen, eventually?

“What’s wrong?” Keanen looks to me, then the plate.

“Nothing.” I pick up my fork and shovel a bite into my mouth quickly, to disguise my discomfort. Oh, my God. The flavors taste as incredible as they smell. It’s savory and sweet at once, with a hint of something almost minty. I slow down my chewing to savor it, but before I know it, the whole plate is empty, and I’m practically scraping up the scraps. It was delicious, but not exactly large. Maybe three bites of food.

Beside me, Keanen laughs. “Relax.” He reaches over to rest a hand on my knee. “There are eleven more courses where that came from.”

“Eleven?” My voice squeaks, half from excitement, half from… well. I reach down and gently slide his hand off my knee. “Keanen. You didn’t have to plan all this.” I gesture at the room.

“I know that.” He leans toward me, eyes fixed on mine. “I wanted to. You deserve it, Missy.”

“But…” I swallow around a sudden tight lump. “This is… all of this…” I shake my head. “I’m not used to stuff like this, Keanen. Hell, this is probably the most expensive outfit I’ve ever worn.” I tug at the hem of the dress he bought me in preparation for tonight. “If you’re expecting all of our dates to be like this, I just… I don’t know, are we compatible, or—”

He presses a fingertip to my mouth, freezing me in place. “Missy. I am perfectly happy just hanging out on campus with you, or at the dive, or going out to a regular restaurant.” His fingertip drops, but I remain silent, watching him, as he leans in closer, his eyes intent on mine. “But I wanted our first actual date to be special. And,” he laughs softly, “we’ve spent the last week in your world. A part of me wanted to show you mine.” He arches an eyebrow. “Is that so bad?”

“No,” I murmur, not tearing my gaze from his. “Just don’t expect me to know which fork to use, because…” I glance down at the place settings again, and he laughs. Then he cups my chin gently and draws me toward him.

“Trust me, I don’t.” He grins. “But I like that you’re a little… shall we say, uncouth?” His lips catch mine, and I sink into the kiss, into the searing heat that Keanen always manages to generate in me.

A knock at the door again, and I pull back, my cheeks going hot. Keanen watches me, smirking, and I swat at his arm. “You are not getting us kicked out of here before I eat all eleven of those courses.”

“Deal,” he replies, much too fast. “But what about after that?” That devilish eyebrow arch returns, and it’s all I can do to keep from kicking him under the table as the waiter returns to serve us again.

But by the time the dessert course rolls around, I’m definitely hungry for more than just the bites of chocolate we’re licking off our fingers—or each other’s.

Keanen must read my mind, because he pays the bill before I can even get a glimpse at he total—not that I really want to know. And the next thing I know, he’s whisking me back downstairs. I think he’s going to lead me to his car, but he catches my hand and pulls me up the street instead, as I laugh and try to keep up in the kitten heels he bought me.

“What now?” I call, as he tugs me along the sidewalk. “Is there a parade for Your Majesty? Or perhaps some private champagne tasting?”

He laughs. And then leads me off the sidewalk, toward a little copse of trees I hadn’t noticed before, along what looks like a small public park. “No,” he says. “Although, if you’d like to have a tasting I can think of some options that are better than champagne…”

He leads me under a tree branch and on the other side…

“Oh.” My eyebrows rise, my lips parting. We’re standing at the shore of a small lake, the lights from town glittering on its surface. In the distance, I spot a flock of ducks, heads tucked under their wings for the night. A few other people stroll on the opposite shore, hand in hand, or sit at benches dotted around the lake’s edge. But here in this little private copse of trees, it’s just the two of us. “It’s beautiful,” I murmur.