Total pages in book: 28
Estimated words: 27227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 27227 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 136(@200wpm)___ 109(@250wpm)___ 91(@300wpm)
I pull up in front of Oleggo’s and hand my keys to the valet while heading around to Caitlin’s side. But once the door is open, she merely sits there, her cheeks rosy.
“Travis, I can’t go in there! I’m not dressed appropriately. My sundress is way too casual.”
I shake my head.
“No honey, you look great. It’s not fancy during lunchtime. Look at me. I’m in jeans and a t-shirt.”
Caitlin studies my outfit for a second before sighing and swinging her legs out of the car. She’s wearing yellow high-heeled sandals and again, I’d love to press my lips to those delectable thighs. But this isn’t the time. Instead, we walk inside and immediately, the song and dance routine begins.
“Welcome to Oleggo’s!” the maître d’ sings. “Mr. Simpson, it’s always good to see you again. Your usual table?”
“Yes, that would be great. Thank you, Chester.”
As we follow the man to a table, Cait elbows me and hisses, “Do you come here a lot?”
I laugh. “Yeah, sometimes. I bring a lot of executives here for business lunches. It’s a nice enough restaurant to impress them but not so fancy that they’re intimidated.”
My usual table is perfect, which is why I always sit here. It’s a corner booth, and has a great view of the whole restaurant, which has a Greek / Mediterranean vibe. It’s also slightly separated from the lunch crowd, which is crucial because I want to be able to hear the person I’m with over the din of the restaurant.
“Enjoy your lunch, Mr. Simpson,” Chester bows. Meanwhile, a waiter comes over with menus.
“Drinks, sir?” he asks. “I can recommend a particularly fine Bordeaux if you’re interested.”
Hmm, that sounds excellent. I order a glass of wine while Caitlin gets an iced tea. Good. I like my girls innocent, although Caitlin is certainly allowed to have a sip or two of my Bordeaux.
“What do you usually eat here?” Caitlin asks after the waiter leaves to get our drinks. “I have no idea what to order because honestly, I’m not even sure how to pronounce some of these entrees.”
I merely chuckle.
“I’d go with a gyro.”
“Oh, is that how you say it? With a y-sound and not a g-sound?” Her question is so innocent and unassuming that I chuckle again.
“Do you trust me to order for you, sweetheart?”
Caitlin nods. “Yes, please. I don’t like onions, so that’s my only no-no.”
“Perfect.”
When the waiter returns, I order Caitlin a chicken gyro without onions, while I go with a traditional lamb gyro. Pita bread and a Greek salad to share complete the meal. But once we’re alone again, I lean forward.
“So, tell me more about yourself,” is my low invitation. She flushes a bit, and I watch as the red spreads down her chest and into her décolletage. I’d love to squeeze those big breasts right now, but now is not the time.
“What do you want to know?” she asks in a low voice.
I shrug. “You told me a bit about your stepmother last night. Is your father around?”
Caitlin’s face drops. “No. Brian died when I was child. Car accident.”
I put my hand over hers on the table. “Oh, sweetheart. I’m so sorry to hear that. So it’s just been you and your stepmom all this time?”
She nods.
“Yes, and it’s been really hard, to put it mildly. Fiona never liked me, and without my dad around, things went from bad to worse.”
I nod. This stepmom person is clearly a piece of shit, taking advantage of an orphan like that. How can anyone be so cruel, especially to a girl like this? It’s clear the woman in front of me would never hurt a fly. Caitlin is gentle and kind, and would give the clothes off her back to another human being in need. I couldn’t even get her to spend my money without some serious prodding!
“What does Fiona do for a living?” I ask mildly.
Caitlin takes a deep breath.
“She’s a bank teller. But according to her, she’d tell you she’s a professional fashion designer. It’s complicated. She tried to launch a design company after my dad died using his life insurance money, but she’s had to take out a million loans to keep it afloat. The only way it even exists today is because she’s subsidizing it with her salary from the bank.”
“Wow.”
Cait shakes her head.
“I know, right? Even worse, she and I should get along because we have a lot of the same interests. I’m also interested in fashion design, so that should be something to bond over, but instead, it just makes her … I don’t know, jealous or something.”
I sit back, puzzled.
“You like fashion design? Don’t take this the wrong way, but that surprises me because you seemed so nervous at the boutique today.”
Caitlin smiles shyly. “I know, and it’s because I was. I’m used to having to recycle or upcycle clothes. I know how to make myself look good with scraps of fabric, and maybe a stray button or two. But buying expensive designer duds? That’s a whole different story.”