Page 183 of Manhattan Bossholes

I followed her inside, inhaling the scent of black coffee and bacon grease. I hadn’t been to Doris’s since I was a teenager, but it hadn’t changed one bit. The signage on the walls was still the same. The red and white menus were still the same. Even the checkered tablecloths, booth seats, and window coverings looked like they hadn’t been updated in twenty years. It had all been preserved like in one of those weird wax museums.

We seated ourselves, choosing a booth by the window where the sunlight streamed down, painting Cora with a golden glow. She ran her finger down the menu, then shook her head, laughing.

“What?” I asked, unable to keep the smile off my face.

“This is the glamorous lifestyle of breakfast with a billionaire, huh? You gonna get the big stack like you used to?”

“Any billionaire worth their salt would know that pancakes like Doris’s aren’t to be missed,” I pointed out in a mock-pompous tone.

“You’re right about that,” Cora said, skimming her menu again.

“But,” I continued, “if it’s glamour you want, I’ll just have to take you out on the town when we get back to Manhattan.”

She narrowed her eyes, a funny little smile tugging at her lips. “Are you serious?”

“Of course I’m serious.” Did she really think Doris’s was the best I could do? The pancakes were obviously supreme, but I had a few nice places up my sleeve that would really wow Cora—and the more I thought about it, the more excited I felt at the prospect. I didn’t think I needed to impress her at this point, but I wanted to. I wanted to treat her to a nice meal in a luxury place with a private table for just the two of us.

Cora stared at me for a beat longer, then she relaxed, beaming at me. I wasn’t sure what had changed, but I was glad to see her enjoying the idea of going out with me. Despite only spending a few short hours apart, I’d missed her—the heat of her body, the feel of her tucked against my side.

She flipped her menu over, trying to sound aloof. “Are you asking me on a date, Aiden Callihan?”

“I am.”

She cleared her throat. “I’m waiting.”

“Cora Newport, would you like to go to dinner with me tonight?”

“Where?” she asked.

“Can it be a surprise?”

She tilted her head. “At least tell me what I should wear.”

“Definitely a nice dress,” I said. And a pair of fuck-me heels. That part I left out, hoping the dress part would ensure that anyway.

“Then yes. I’d love to go to dinner with you,” she said. “As long as you promise not to pick me up in a chariot.”

“Got it,” I said, pulling out my phone.

“What are you doing?”

“Canceling the chariot.” Her face fell for a second before I started laughing. “I’m kidding.”

She glared at me. “Just for that, I’m ordering donuts to go. Have fun detailing your Mercedes next.”

“Is double parking just your thing now?” Cora asked as I escorted her to the door of her building a few hours later.

“Worked out for me last time,” I said.

She raised a brow.

“No ticket,” I explained. I was very much aware that the last time I walked her to her door, I’d kissed her, even if the kiss hadn’t ended quite the way I’d hoped.

“Cora!” Carlos called as we headed through the lobby. “These came for you.”

Cora walked over to the reception desk. I followed, frowning as Carlos lifted a massive vase into view, setting it down on the desk. It was filled with red roses.

“Who from?” she asked.