Chapter Four

As the days progressed, my humiliation over my date slowly faded. I fell into my normal routine. It was as if my new year hadn’t started in the odd way it had. I began looking ahead instead of back. Which was why I was pretty annoyed when Geoffrey Jenkins strolled into the diner and plopped himself down at the counter.

I was cooking and not serving. Thank goodness for small wonders.

He conveniently planted himself on the stool at the counter, placing him directly opposite the order window. If he hadn’t known I was in the back cooking when he sat down, it wasn’t long before he did.

Sparks flew clear into the kitchen when our eyes met. I could swear my toes curled! My treacherous body had a mind of its own. It annoyed me to no end. After all, I’d already made a complete ass of myself with one good-looking guy, and now, not a week later, guy number two came waltzing in to my place of employment to complete my humiliation. Was nothing sacred?

No! No! No! Was this a conspiracy?

I promised myself right then and there…no more hot guys!

Apparently, I wasn’t the only one whose body reacted to the erotic sparks Geoffrey emitted. Francine had barely taken his order before rushing back into the kitchen to expound upon his manly attributes and what she’d like to do with them.

I could feel a headache coming on.

“Come on, Lizzy,” Francine pouted, “you can’t tell me you don’t see what I’m talking about. Look at him. He’s like some sexy wild animal. Like a lion or something. Grrrruff!”

I rolled my eyes, “Lion?”

“I’m sure he’s the leader of the pack,” she giggled.

“Order up,” I growled as I slapped a basket of fried chicken and French fries onto the ledge of the order pick-up window.

Francine raised a brow, “Testy much?” she spat.

She patted her hair, straightened her apron, and smoothed her mini-skirt before sashaying behind the counter to retrieve the basket of piping hot food. Flashing a seductive smile in Geoffrey’s direction, Francine grabbed the chicken basket in one hand and a coffee pot in the other and headed over to her customer’s table.

My eyes roamed from Francine’s exaggerated wiggle to Geoffrey, who was intently watching that exaggerated wiggle. Before I could look away, he caught my eye, smiled sheepishly, and shrugged his shoulders like a high school kid caught looking at Playboy. I couldn’t help chuckling.

I quickly regained my sobriety, reminding myself that I didn’t want to encourage this crazy man at the counter. I adjusted the cook’s hat on my head, grabbed the next ticket, and begin filling the order.

Let Francine have the crazy guy. He may be good looking but looks don’t wipe out crazy.

I was so engrossed in the burgers I was frying while avoiding Geoffrey’s stares that I paid no attention to the “oohs” and “ahhs” that the regular customers emitted when a florist delivered an enormous bouquet of roses. I bathed in the scent preceding its arrival as Francine waltzed it into the kitchen. I couldn’t resist admiring its beauty.

“Wow,” I said as she set the bouquet on a table near my cooking station. “Someone has an admirer.”

“Yeah,” Francine asked excitedly, “who is he?”

“What?”

“Your mystery man. Who is he? Where’d you meet him? Come on, spill it girlfriend.” Francine scowled as one of the regulars bellowed out her name in his request for more coffee. She pulled the little card free of its holder, handed it to me, and said in a conspiratorial tone, “I’ll be back.”

I stared at the flowers while questioning who sent them. I stole a peek at Geoffrey. He seemed too preoccupied with his bowl of minestrone soup to be the one. After all, if he’d sent such an expensive bouquet of roses, shouldn’t he be more interested in my reception of them than he was in his stomach?

Unable to stand the suspense any longer, I tore open the card. I couldn’t believe my eyes as I read the perfect penmanship.

It took me a while to find you, but perseverance prevails. Have dinner with me. Tonight. Same place. Same time.  N.S.

Francine returned and eagerly snatched the note from my hand. “Same place, same time. Dinner tonight. Wow, who is this guy?” she asked. “Do I know him?”

“I met him on New Year’s Eve. We had dinner last week,” I replied, offhandedly.

I may have seemed casual on the outside, but on the inside, my mind was whirling. Since Frank never came home the night of my humiliating dinner date with Nevi, I naturally assumed it was Nevi who drove me home and helped me into bed. From the note, I realized my assumption was incorrect. This left the mystery of how I managed to make it home and into bed that night. Had I done the unthinkable and driven while incoherently inebriated? If so, I needed to have a serious talk with myself. I knew better.

This was only one of the things racing through my mind. I was completely dumbstruck to realize I hadn’t ruined it with Nevi. He actually wanted to see me again. So much so, he’d been searching for me.

“Wow. Is this the guy you left work early for the other night? I thought you said you’d botched it up,” Francine’s voice had a dreamy tone to it. “It’s like something from a romance novel.” After a moment’s contemplation, she sucked in air to fill her lungs, straightened her shoulders, and continued, “It’s about time you got off your tukus and started living. I can’t tell you how annoying it’s been having you hiding behind that wallflower facade of yours.” She held her hand up as I started to protest, “I’m not saying you do it intentionally. In fact, I’m sure you don’t. It’s probably just your way. This isn’t the first time we’ve discussed this. Hopefully it’s the last. What took you so long to get it together? Do you think I’m afraid of the competition or something?” She put her hands on her hips, puffed out her chest, and growled mockingly, “Girl, bring it on.”

I couldn’t help giggling as I watched Francine mimic the actions of a boxer taunting his foe. She was a good ten years my senior with flaming red hair that clearly looked generated from a bottle. She was the proud owner of a body that knocked the wind out of every new guy who walked into the diner. She was no stranger to men, which was part of her charm. It was what made Francine…well…Francine.

Francine and I were not best friend close, but we’d struck up a decent working friendship. I felt I could label her as “friend.” She was the mother of two and sometimes forgot to leave her mother persona at home where it belonged. It was on those days when she would take it upon herself to worry over my love life, or lack of it. She was constantly berating me about my choice of clothing and severe hairstyle. I kept it pulled tight under my chef’s hat when cooking and in a severe ponytail when serving, in hopes it would take on less of the diner scent. She complained I was hiding instead of complementing my quality features. On days when I knew I would be cooped up in the hot kitchen, I wore minimal makeup. This was something Francine—who wore enough for both of us—could barely comprehend or tolerate. Even with such drastic differences, we got along famously. This helped reduce the drudgery of some of those long, burdensome shifts.

“This is a surprise,” I mused, “I didn’t expect to hear from him again.”

“You’re leaving early then,” Francine stated with a tone of command rather than a question. “You’ll need time to wash diner scent out of that thick head of hair and get all prettied up.”

She was right. It figured that, on that particular day, I hadn’t taken precautions to protect my hair while cooking. Sure, I had the cook’s hat on my head, but I’d left the braid trailing down my back. My hair was free to suck in all the kitchen odors it could. I would need to wash it for sure. This would add a few hours onto my preparation time.

“I don’t know. It’s pretty short notice. Maybe I should just take a rain check on the date. I don’t know if I’m up to it tonight,” I almost whined.

“Baloney! You’re going and that’s that,” my coworker barked.

Answering the call of an impatient customer, she left me alone in the kitchen with my thoughts, my flowers, and my…burning hamburgers! I was so intent on salvaging the meat on my grill, I didn’t notice when Geoffrey entered the kitchen.

He cleared his throat, dramatically.

“You shouldn’t be back here,” I scowled as I flipped burger after burger.

“You shouldn’t be accepting flowers from vampires,” he growled.

“Still living in fantasy land, eh?” I quipped.

“You’re playing with fire, little girl,” he growled again.

“I’m not a little girl. I’ll be twenty-five in a few weeks,” I snapped as I slammed the spatula down on the counter next to the grill and faced him.

“If you live that long,” he snorted.

Whoa! What a scary remark. Was this guy a serial killer or something? I made myself a promise to investigate him on the internet as soon as time allowed. The sooner the better as far as I was concerned.

I decided not to show him how frightened his comment made me and stepped toward him with my hands on my hips. I would have much preferred to run away. “Are you threatening me?”

“Of course, I’m not threatening you. I’m trying to make you understand the dangers involved with associating with this man you seem so enamored with. He’s not who you think he is.” Geoffrey sounded exasperated.

“Of course not,” I turned back to my burgers and flipped them before setting the spatula back down and moving back in his direction. I addressed him in the coolest manner I could muster, “He’s a vampire.”

“What will it take to make you see?” He groaned.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Oh, I dunno… Fangs, maybe.”

“If you wait until then, it will be too late,” he muttered before unceremoniously stomping out of the kitchen.

* * * *

I was so glad I’d listened to Francine and left work early. I was even gladder business was slow enough that she and Nick—dishwasher, part-time cook, and server—would be able to handle things without me until the shift ended. Since Ollie—the owner—was on vacation for the next month, he wouldn’t know I’d left early again. Ollie was pretty easy to work for and would have excused my leaving early for a date once, but twice so close together?  I didn’t think it would have gone over well with him.

I felt like this date was to be my make or break date with Nevi. I wanted—more than I could even explain to myself—it to go well. It wasn’t just because of his looks and obvious wealth. It ran deeper than that. I’d felt something—a familiarity of sorts—the moment we’d met. We belonged together. I don’t know why I felt this way. I just knew we did.

I wondered, Is Nevi my soul mate?

My shift ended shortly after the lunch rush, so I’d only lost a few hours of work. Since I wasn’t due to meet with Nevi until ten-thirty that night, I had plenty of time to clean up and make myself look fantastic.

I did look fantastic, even if it seems egotistical of me to think it.

I was hopeful. Maybe I could turn things around and wipe out any memory of my humiliating actions from our first date. Since he was coming back for date two—and I was looking pretty hot—I stood a good chance. I couldn’t resist one more admiring look in the mirror before grabbing my coat and heading out the door.

I hadn’t realized how much I’d missed getting dressed up and going out until I’d met Nevi. I’d fallen into a slump of sneakers, jeans, cable television, and popcorn. It drove Francine practically insane witnessing my fall into the land of slumpdom. I think she was even more excited than I was for me to be dating someone who went to places other than Pizza Hut and Sonic.

I’d have been lying if I said Geoffrey’s words weren’t nagging at me in the recesses of my mind. I didn’t know why they affected me like they had. He was a complete stranger to me. Sure, he was yummy to look at, but he was also obviously off in the head. So, why did his crazy words nag at me like they did?

I shook my head vigorously. No more Geoffrey.

I was surprised at how quickly my drive to Costello’s Restaurant went. I guess mulling over Geoffrey’s wild accusations occupied my mind more than I’d realized.

My heart fluttered at the sight of Nevi leaning against his car in such a put together, suave sort of way. He protected his tall, lean figure from the night’s bitter cold with a full-length lamb’s wool coat, a matching hat, and leather gloves that were so expensive I could smell the money as I drove up. I felt like I should be looking for the camera man for GQ magazine off to the side somewhere.

I did some deep breathing while I pulled my jalopy into the parking lot next to his shiny black, recent model Jaguar. I willed my erratically beating heart to calm down.

My heart obeyed—somewhat—but I still I found I was unable to relax myself to a state where I could be normal and possibly…I don’t know…cool? Well, at least I was not stammering over my words this time as I took his arm and let him guide me into the restaurant.

Once inside, I relinquished my coat. My body warmed with satisfaction at witnessing the look of admiration spreading across Nevi’s face. My efforts had been worth it.

“I cannot begin to tell you how pleased I am that you agreed to dine with me once again,” he purred, “especially with such short notice.”

“I want to thank you for the roses,” I stated appreciatively, “they’re lovely.”

“Like you,” he said.

I reddened while I stole a closer look at him. He didn’t look much older than thirty. He might possibly have been able to claim thirty-five, but it would have been a stretch. Yet, his mannerisms and speech depicted a much older man. I couldn’t recall the last time I was on a date with a guy my age or within the same generation who showed so much…what’s the word? Savoir-faire. It was as if I’d stepped into a romance novel. I chuckled to myself. Francine made the exact comment just that afternoon.

If only she could see me now.

We were led, once again, to what I learned was Nevi’s personal table in the V.I.P. section of the restaurant. I raised my eyebrows when the host held my chair and I settled in before a setting that included a crisp salad and a glass of red wine. I looked for the bottle to see if it was Pinotage or another exquisite label, but found only a wide mouth carafe. It didn’t matter. I was sure whatever it was would be smooth and delicious. I just hoped it wouldn’t have as potent an effect on me as the last time. I made a mental note to monitor my alcohol intake just a little more closely this time.

The mystery of how I got home and tucked into bed so neatly after my last date with Nevi flitted through my mind. I pushed it away. I had an opportunity to recoup myself with this man. I didn’t want anything to spoil it.

“I hope you do not mind. I took the liberty of ordering for you again. It seems to be my habit with you,” he smiled broadly.

“This salad looks delicious. I’m sure the meal will be just as good.” I looked across the table to discover his salad plate was missing. “Aren’t you having a salad?”

“No, forgive me, but I prefer my soup,” he explained. “I did not wish to bore you with a repeat of cuisine, so I requested a nice plate of greens to start your dining experience tonight. This is all right?”

Just then, the server arrived with Nevi’s soup. It was the same deep red tomato bisque he’d had on our first date.

“The salad is fine,” I raised my fork and took a bite. “Perfect, in fact. Thank you.”

Conversation flowed a little easier this time. Grateful he made no mention of the odd ending of our last date, I was careful to avoid saying anything that might lead us in direction.

Nevi questioned me about my childhood and I did my best to monitor my words and expound only on the good points. He was particularly interested in the travels I’d done. It was clear he was a man of the world and enjoyed discussing the places he’d been to with people who could understand and relate. I gave silent thanks to my parents and their incessant love of travel. My parents practically raised us on a cruise ship. Not really, but I did go on a lot of cruises while under my parent’s roof.

There were a few opportunities for me to question Nevi about his own childhood. I found he didn’t enjoy discussing it as much as he did the places he’d traveled to, so I let it go and went with the flow.

Our dinner was yet another meatless dish. This time it was a simple—but delicious—Vegetable Tiella. I didn’t ask about the wine and Nevi didn’t volunteer. It was clear and less potent. I found it much lighter and smoother than the Pinotage had been. I relaxed, feeling confident this wine would not knock me in to Never-Neverland.

Nevi kept the wine and conversation flowing and I found myself more and more at ease in his company. I was moving past his incredible good looks and getting to know the man beneath it all. I liked what I was uncovering. Although he was obviously wealthy and incredibly worldly, he had a much simpler, softer, and gentler way about him than the well-to-do men and women my parents introduced me to. Through course of conversation, I learned he was quite the humanitarian. He took a particular interest in saving endangered animals and landmasses like forests and lakes. In fact, he was on the board of several foundations.

Dinner ended all too quickly. Before I knew what was happening, he helped me into my coat and escorted me toward the door. We were just about to leave when the host rushed up to us with a small tray containing two cordial glasses filled with, you guessed it…rich, aromatic Sambuca.