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His response is to narrow his eyes, but the look he gives me is unexpectedly alluring. “Oh, I’ve been a lot more to you than just that.”
Ooh… His tone is doing things to me. Things I will not let happen anymore. Determined to make my stance crystal clear, I grip the counter and lean in closer, ensuring he won’t miss a single word. “Oh, we’re done with that.”
His steady gaze on me, accompanied by continuous nods, unsettles me, especially when he licks his lips—a gesture that inspires an intense desire to kiss him, which is not exactly what I should be feeling if I want to keep things casual.
“How about I make you dinner tonight?” he proposes after the pause.
My eyes widen in disbelief. “Really?”
I mean, did Randy just ask me out? No, it’s not a formal date. He mentioned making dinner, but that’s essentially a date, isn’t it?
“Yes, Gina. Really.” His tone was oh so seductive, and that leaves me speechless.
Then Randy gestures toward the kitchen, holding up a white cloth bag. “I’m going to go into the kitchen with this,” he explains, “and make you dinner. After this place closes, it’ll just be you and me. You can ask me anything that’s on your mind. What do you say?”
Chapter 8
The Only Date That Will Ever Matter
Gina
As Randy get to work in the kitchen, whispers start circulating among the customers, wondering if the five-star chef’s entrée is on the menu tonight. Whatever Randy is cooking up smells divine.
“Only for one fortunate lady,” Rita croons with a beaming smile, giving me a playfully flirtatious look.
For some reason, her comment sent me seeking refuge outside. I needed some fresh air and a moment to gather my thoughts, so I called Naomi. It’s such a comfort to know I have a friend who’s there for me anytime, anywhere. Naomi was at a dinner with Derek, but she still answered my call.
“I mean, this is not how I pictured things turning out,” I confessed, my voice revealing how worried I was.
“Why not, Gina?” Naomi prodded gently. “Maybe all this time, Randy’s been trying to figure out what you really want. So what is it that you want?”
My eyes drifted across the cars cruising down First Street and the birch trees dotting the parking lot. This small town, where I’ve spent so many years, always carried a quiet melancholy—until Randy burst into my life, stirring everything up. Honestly, before him, I was content to sideline thoughts of romance until I had finished culinary school and mapped out my future. But now, with him preparing dinner for me, my mind swirls with a whirlwind of what-ifs, like the tantalizing yet terrifying prospect of falling for him.
“I don’t know,” I finally conceded.
“Yes, you do,” Naomi insisted gently, her words nudging me to dig deeper for an answer. “You want to be loved. Isn’t that what we’re all searching for? To be loved?”
“I guess so,” I muttered, scuffing the toes of my shoes against the concrete.
“Then be open, relax, and let whatever happens happen,” she said.
Naomi’s parting advice lingered with me as I deliberately steered clear of the kitchen, where Randy was surprisingly still holed up. It was probably the first time he hadn’t emerged to tease or provoke me somehow. A few hours before closing, Rita suggested I head home to change into something more fitting for what she called my “first date” with Randy.
Curious, I asked Rita if she’d been in on Randy’s plan to make me dinner since our shift started. Her response was immediate and characteristically honest. “You know I can’t keep a secret to save my life.”
I couldn’t help but laugh. “No, you really can’t.”
“But just a few minutes ago, he suggested that you might want to go home and change into something more suitable for the occasion. He wants this to feel like a real date for you,” Rita said, her eyebrows dancing with excitement at the prospect of Randy and I becoming a real couple.
The thought that Randy had considered this detail warmed me. And so, with a huge smile and the words, “Ten-four,” I headed home to get changed.
After a fashion show of my own, trying on no less than nine different outfits, I finally decided on a chic ensemble: a black pencil skirt that fell just below my knees, paired with a sleek black silk camisole. I topped it off with my version of a moto jacket—a nod to the kind of jacket Randy wore today.
When I walked into the Calypso, the transformation of the main dining room took my breath away. The lights were softly dimmed, casting a warm, inviting glow over the room. In the middle of the cleared floor space was a single round table elegantly set with a gold silk tablecloth and two chairs. The centerpiece was a tall, slim white candle, its flame dancing gently in the quiet room. I couldn’t help but pause to soak in the romantic setting.
Then, Rita approached me and gave me a warm and reassuring embrace. “Have a wonderful night,” she whispered and then winked at me with a twinkle in her eyes. Before departing, she added, “And it’s about time this happened.”
My eyebrows shot up as I thought, really? I guess I had been deluding myself. It seems everybody sensed the unmistakable chemistry between Randy and me after all.
