The Husband Game
“The restaurant up on the top floor is rated the best in town.” He grins. “That, and the view is also one of the best in the city.”
“But… How much does this cost?” I murmur.
He shakes his head. “I thought you agreed this was going to be a traditional date. I’m pretty sure that means you don’t get to ask me how much I’m spending to take you out.” He winks, then, and my stomach flutters, before I can catch hold of it.
My instincts tell me to protest again: he’s in school, he shouldn’t be spending this kind of money on me. But I force myself to bite my tongue as I trail after him inside. After all, I don’t know his life. Judging by his car, he can afford a few splurges. Besides, it’s kind of nice—although my hardworking, do-it-yourself brain hates to admit it—to let someone spoil me for once.
What would it be like? I wonder. If this were a real date, with a regular guy, who really did have traditional values, and want a traditional relationship? Would it still feel like this? A little hopeful and fun and freeing, while also sending jolts of anticipation through my veins every time we made eye contact?
I don’t know. But I have a feeling a date like this wouldn’t feel quite the same with any other guy but Charlie.
As if to demonstrate that point, he pauses at the elevator and glances over his shoulder at me, that familiar grin back. “Ready?” he says, just as an elevator dings open.
My eyes widen as we step inside, shoulder to shoulder. There’s a bellman in the elevator, dressed in a suit, who nods to us both formally, like he’s welcoming us aboard. I step in next to Charlie, and he takes my hand. Casual, easy. Like we planned this. Like we’re just any normal couple coming here for a date night.
My heart beats faster as his thumb traces over the back of my hand, slowly. Back and forth. Making my pulse race.
Not nearly as fast as it beats when the elevator doors open again, though. We’re on a rooftop, probably one of the highest in town, if not the highest. It’s open air, which I didn’t expect, and I shiver, glad I hadn’t taken off my coat yet. But my lips part when I realize where we’re headed. Each individual table on the rooftop is encased in a small glass igloo, like little snow globes dotted across the rooftop.
As we trail after the maître d’ across the rooftop, I fire a sly smile at Charlie.
He winks back. “Not what you expected?”
“Not exactly… But if all of your surprises are going to be like this, then I’ve got to admit, it’s tempting to let you keep spoiling me.”
He chuckles softly, his voice a low thrum beside me, as he follows after me, close enough to bring his hand to rest on the small of my back, when the maître d’ stops at one of the little igloos. I freeze the moment his hand touches me, because even through my warm, thick coat and my less thick slinky dress, I can feel the heat from his palm, searing against my skin, making me crave more. A longer touch, a lingering one. The kind of touches we shared last night, alone in his place, when he ran his hands up my thighs and across my belly, inching lower and lower until—
“Will this do?” the maître d’ asks us, and Charlie glances at me for confirmation.
“It looks perfect,” I breathe, because it does. We duck under a clear plastic flap and inside the little bubble, where there’s a table set for two, bathed in candlelight, under the dome. A flickering brazier in the corner keeps the space warm and cozy, not to mention casts an additional pretty light—it’s a gas flame, dancing blue over some decorative stones.
I slide into my seat across from Charlie’s, and before I can even think to regret the fact that we’re seated across from one another rather than side by side, his leg grazes mine under the table, his knees trapping one of mine between them.
I shiver, and fight to keep a look of distraction off my face when I turn my face up to beam at the server. “Thank you,” I add, as he’s already backing out of the dome with a bow and closing the flap behind him once more, leaving us ensconced in the warm little bubble together.
“This is so romantic,” I murmur, my gaze jumping from the flickering fire place to the top of the clear dome, through which I could even make out a smattering of stars—it was an unusually clear day for this late in the year, for once no puffy snow clouds blocking our view of the northern skies.