CHAPTER EIGHT

CHAPTER EIGHT

AMBER

I can’t believe I said yes. But did I?

I was standing and listening, and the next thing I knew, he was saying he’d pick me up out front, and then he was walking away. He talked so fast that I just froze.

Now I’m thinking about backing out. But I haven’t been on a date for ages. And he is cute. What harm can come from having dinner with him? None. Especially since sex is off the table. I’m a virgin waiting for the right guy to come along. I don’t believe Noah Dalton is that guy.

I’ve read about the Dalton brothers, the two younger ones anyway, in the gossip columns, and they’re with a different woman every night. Is Noah like that? How can he not be?

I’m straightening scarves and thinking of things when Stacy walks into my area. Instead of the typical Macy’s salesperson garb, she’s wearing a skin-tight bodycon dress, red this time. Bet the call girls on the corner high-five her when she rolls by.

I want to ignore her but don’t. I can’t. She won’t allow it. “Hello, Stacy. Can I help you?”

She looks down her nose at me. She’s two inches taller, but when you tack on the six inches from her stiletto heels, she towers over me. How does she walk around in those things?

“I have to leave early for a date tonight.” She wipes the corner of her mouth with her pinky. “Stevens said you would cover for me.”

“That’s fine. I need the hours anyway.”

Her eyes squint like she’s angry with me. Don’t understand her.

I appreciate the extra hours, and this is a good way for me to get out of my date with Noah. This is a legitimate excuse for bailing. Isn’t it?

“Make sure you have everything in order when you clock out. If you don’t, I’ll know.” She stomps off.

Is that woman ever happy?

I keep an eye out for when she leaves. I assume it’ll be six, the same time I’m supposed to get off. And it is, well, close enough for Stacey anyway. She leaves at 5:50 without a wave or a nod. No heads-up? Trying to stick it to me right away? She’s such a nice person.

Stacey knows that my replacement—Beth Anne, a part-timer like myself who works from six until closing—doesn’t normally clock in until six on the dot. So, I can’t go to Stacey’s department until… Uggggh.

I exchange pleasantries with Beth Anne when she shows up five minutes late and then hustle over to cover for Stacey. Twenty minutes pass without a customer, and Noah strides in wearing a blue cotton suit—custom made—and a blue and white pinstriped shirt. His shoes are black. Leather Oxfords, I believe. And recently spit-shined.

He says when he gets to me, “Hey, Amber. Are you ready?” He’s so jovial.

“I’m sorry, I can’t. Have to cover for somebody tonight.” I get a lump in my throat. Swallowing becomes difficult. I didn’t realize how badly I wanted to go out with him.

“How late do you have to stay?”

“Nine.”

“Not a problem. I’ll make some calls, push things around.”

His reaction surprises me. “You’re not mad?” I study him carefully.

He shrugs halfheartedly. “Was this planned?”

“Got dumped on me last minute.”

“Then why should I be mad?”

I raise my hands and shake my head.

A customer holding a coffee maker is looking around. “I have to go,” I tell him and scurry away.

It surprises me he wasn’t upset over the deal. Maybe I was wrong about him. We’ll have to see.

After helping the woman, I notice Noah is gone. I don’t blame him. I was rather rude.

Time drags on from there because I feel bad about how things turned out. Blame it all on Stacey, I guess.

Quitting time rolls around, and Noah hasn’t come back. Now I’m regretting how things worked out. I go through the normal procedures a Macy’s employee goes through at closing and then drag myself from the building. Noah is waiting for me with a smile.

He walks toward me. “All done?”

Here come the second thoughts again. “Yes, but I don’t know if this is a good idea.”

He grabs my hand and tugs me toward a waiting car with a driver standing next to it. “We’re just going to have dinner, okay? You’re hungry, aren’t you?”

The minute he mentions food, my stomach growls. Been a while since I’ve eaten. “I’m starving.”

The driver opens the back door for me. “Thank you,” I tell him before getting in and sliding over, making room for Noah.

“You’re welcome, miss.”

Noah slides in next to me and leaves little room between us. “Hope you like Italian?”

“What girl doesn’t?”

It’s a short drive to the restaurant. We could have walked, but I’m glad we didn’t. Had a long day of work.

We say little during the brief trip. The car pulls up, and the sign on the front of the building says, Al Fornos. I’ve never noticed this place before, and I’ve walked by several times. The power of observation.

After the car stops, Noah helps me out. Guides me to the door and opens it. My first impression of the place is that it’s small. Ten tables, perhaps.

Noah’s hand has been touching my back since we left the car. He doesn’t move it away when an older woman greets us.

“Noah.” She hugs him.

“Hello, Mamma.” He tilts his head at me. “Mamma, I’d like you to meet Amber.”

“Ahh.” She hugs me and kisses both of my cheeks. “He finally brings a girl into my place. You must be special?”

My cheeks warm. They’re probably redder than a taillight.

She grabs my hand and leads me to an empty table. I glance back at Noah. He’s grinning.

“Sit, sit.” She pulls a chair out for me.

Noah and I both take a seat.

Mamma says, “I’ll bring you drink and food.”

“Thank you,” I say.

She pats my back and winks at Noah.

He smiles back at her, and she moves off, spouting Italian to the staff.

“She seems nice.”.

“A wonderful woman.”

Two tables away, a man in his mid-fifties with salt-and-pepper hair and wearing a gray suit and purple tie points at us and says something to the well-endowed twenty-year-old brunette who sits across from him. He rises from his chair and walks toward to us, hand extended.

“Noah, old boy.”

Noah gives a double-take. “Henry.”

They shake.

Noah adjusts so he can see where Henry came from. The bouncy brunette smiles and waves and then refills her wine glass.

“You like them . . . young, don’t you, Henry,” Noah says half-jokingly.

“Hey. They’ve got to be young to keep up with me.” He chuckles and rattles Noah’s shoulder. “You know what I mean, don’t you?”

“Sure do, Henry.”

“Who is this gorgeous woman?”

Noah makes introductions as the waiter sets two glasses on the table. Holds up a bottle of wine for Noah to inspect.

Noah nods.

Henry says, “Well, I guess I better get back to my… friend. Just wanted to say hello. Nice meeting you, Amber.”

“Same here, Henry.”

Henry returns to his table. The waiter pours the wine and waits for Noah to taste it. He does and nods, and the waiter bows and leaves.

Noah holds his glass out toward me.

I pick mine up.

“To the first of what I hope is many dates,” he says.

I smile tightly. I might be in over my head.