Chapter 6

CHAPTER

SIX

THEN

Cecilia subconsciously tapped her fork on the white linen tablecloth as she waited.

She glanced at her watch again.

Fifteen minutes late.

Only five minutes ago she'd told herself that ten minutes was as long as she would wait.

Anything beyond that amount of time was just fooling herself.

When she'd met Ryan Fielding at the grocery store—in the produce section, of course—he'd seemed like an upright guy who knew how to pick a piece of ripe fruit and carry on a decent conversation. So when he'd asked her to dinner, Cecilia had agreed.

She'd told him they could meet at the restaurant. There was no need for him to pick her up.

She'd had so many bad experiences with men, and she was trying to do better. To set more boundaries. To be more selective about who she dated and who knew where she lived.

Her friends had said she was looking too hard for a man.

But she wasn't. Just because men asked her out didn't mean she was looking hard or that she even wanted a husband or someone to take care of her.

Having good conversation and someone else paying for her meals seemed a good option.

Except she always fell for the wrong guys. The ones who were controlling. Who only wanted one thing. Who didn't appreciate her for the right reasons.

She glanced at her watch one more time, hating how self-conscious she felt.

Twenty minutes had passed.

That was it. She needed to go. Staying any longer was just humiliating.

She stood and placed her napkin on her plate. She would go back to her apartment, cook some ramen, and change out of her red dress into some sweats and a T-shirt.

As she stepped away from the table, the waitress—a serious woman in her fifties with her hair pulled back into a tight bun—suddenly appeared in front of her. "Good evening, ma'am. Are you ready for your bill?"

"I didn't order anything," Cecilia reminded the waitress.

Her expression remained cool. "We have a minimum reservation fee."

A minimum reservation fee? She'd never heard of such. Then again, her idea of a nice dinner was Applebee's.

"But I didn't even make this reservation . . ." Cecilia explained. Certainly this woman would hear what happened and back off. Anyone with some common sense would.

"I understand. But here's your check." The waitress handed her a slip of paper. "Our tables are in high demand, so we charge for each reservation."

Cecilia's eyes widened when she saw the amount on the bill. "It cost that much just to reserve a table here?"

"That's right." The waitress frowned. "People who come into establishments like this usually understand the intricacies of fine dining."

She heard the underlying tone in the woman's voice.

Cecilia didn't belong in places like this.

But sixty dollars for a reservation fee seemed excessive. "That's my entire pay after working a day at Balderston's Department Store."

The waitress's expression remained unchanged. "I understand, but that's not my problem."

Cecilia needed that money. Sixty dollars could buy her groceries for a week. Her pantry wasn't even stocked with anything expensive—mostly ramen, spaghetti noodles, jars of marinara sauce, and a few cans of tuna.

"I didn't eat any food." She worked hard to keep her voice calm, to not get wound up or cause a scene. "So I don't feel as if I need to pay for simply being here."

"Unfortunately, that's not the way it works." The waitress popped her hip out, clearly becoming impatient.

The woman had to have other tables to oversee, other patrons to serve. Couldn't she just move on?

Ryan. This was his fault. If he'd just shown up, then Cecilia wouldn't be in this position right now.

She should have known the man was too smooth for his own good. What man took that much time picking out an apple?

"Do I need to get my manager?" The waitress's voice turned from cool to almost angry.

Cecilia glanced around. Other restaurant patrons—the rich elite who frequented high-brow places like this—were already starting to stare. She couldn't blame them. She knew she was creating a scene, even though that hadn't been her intention.

"Ma'am?" the waitress repeated as she waited for her answer.

"You don't need to get your manager because I'm not paying for it," Cecilia repeated, crossing her arms. The fact that these people thought she should pay sixty dollars just for the privilege of sitting at one of their tables was ridiculous.

"I'm afraid that's not going to work." The waitress's words sounded clipped and tight.

Cecilia heard the judgment in her tone, and she didn't appreciate it. She might not be rich, but that didn't mean?—

"Here you go," a deep voice cut into the conversation. "This should cover the ridiculous cost you have for simply entering this establishment. Now, if you'll please leave this nice woman alone. She seems to be the only one here with any common sense."

Cecilia's breath caught as she looked up at the man who'd interceded for her.

In his thirties. Dark hair. A nice suit.

He screamed affluence.

The waitress actually flushed as she took the money from him and nodded. "Thank you, sir."

"And I will not be giving this establishment my business anymore, not if this is the way you treat your customers."

"Mr.—"

He held up his hand to stop her mid-sentence. "Please don't say anything else. I've heard enough. Have a good evening."

He took Cecilia's arm and led her outside.

They paused under a bright-red awning. Two valets worked on the sidewalk, and a tuxedoed host greeted restaurant patrons. A red carpet stretched like a ribbon to the front door, intending to make restaurant guests feel like stars.

Unless you were the wrong guest. Then everyone working at the restaurant made you feel like trash.

"I'm sorry they treated you like that," the man told Cecilia.

Cecilia's heart still pounded in her ears.

It wasn't often that people stood up for her. Usually, they liked to use her. Liked to embarrass her. To throw her away. Especially men.

"You didn't have to do that. If you give me a few weeks, I can pay you back." Cecilia didn't want to be under anyone's thumb. Didn't want to owe anyone anything.

"Don't be ridiculous. I only paid that retched woman so she'd stop making a scene back there. You didn't deserve that." He paused and observed her, his voice soft as if he didn't want to embarrass her.

Cecilia pushed a curl behind her ear. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything. I don't like when people are mistreated."

"You're one of the good guys, huh?"

A movie star-worthy grin spread across his face. "I try to be one of the good guys."

They began to walk side-by-side down the bustling New York City sidewalk, naturally falling into step beside each other.

"I'm Garrick, by the way."

"I'm Cecilia."

She shivered at the chilly early October breeze, and Garrick took his jacket off and placed it over her shoulders.

"Can I walk you to your car? I know I'm old fashioned, but something about the city at night always makes me more cautious."

"I took the subway," she explained.

"The subway also makes me nervous." He let out a chuckle.

"It's not that bad." If she were being honest, she'd admit she didn't like taking the subway alone either, especially at night.

Two weeks ago, her friend had been attacked while waiting for the train to come. Her purse had been stolen, and the man might have done more if it hadn't been for two cops that strolled up. They'd chased the man, but he'd gotten away.

Now Cecilia couldn't get those images out of her head. Images of her friend shaking and crying. Unable to sleep at night. Afraid to go out alone again.

"Are you from this area, Cecilia?" Garrick's voice pulled her from her thoughts as they slowly walked down the sidewalk, almost as if purposefully wanting more time to draw out the conversation.

"No, I came here two years ago."

"What brought you to the city?"

"I know it's going to sound cliché, but I wanted to be an actress. On Broadway."

When that hadn't worked out, Cecilia had worked on some other skills to try to earn money. She'd settled on working retail.

"You certainly have the looks for Broadway."

Her cheeks warmed. "Thank you. But looks aren't enough. I should have known that."

"Sometimes these things take time."

Something about his tone filled her with a moment of hope, like maybe she still had a chance. Like maybe her future wasn't confined to working at a department store selling clothing that cost more than she made in a month to rich women who turned their noses up at her.

She peered up at him and offered a grateful smile. "I appreciate your confidence in me."

"I'm just telling the truth."

They continued down the street, ignoring the throngs of people sharing the sidewalk. The savory scent of garlic and roasted tomatoes from a nearby Italian restaurant filled her nostrils, mingling with the odd odor of the city that she'd never quite been able to identify. Sewage? Subway gases?

She wasn't sure.

They reached the subway and paused.

"I'd offer to give you a ride home, but I have a feeling you're not the type who will take a ride with a stranger—which is only smart."

She gave him a soft smile. "You're right. I try not to do that."

"Could I at least pay for a taxi for you?" He tilted his head as he waited for her response.

"Then I might feel like I owe you something."

"But you wouldn't," he told her. "This city can eat people up and spit them out. I know it seemed like that when I first moved to New York also. It's the least I can do to help someone out."

"No strings attached?" She studied his face looking for any signs of ulterior motives.

"No strings attached."

Cecilia glanced at the steps leading to the subway and considered how much nicer it would be to take a taxi.

But taking the subway was just one way of taking care of herself, of not depending on anyone else. She liked standing on her own two feet.

"I appreciate the offer, but I'm going to catch a train back to my place instead."

"I understand." He didn't seem surprised.

"Thank you again." Cecilia gave him another smile.

"Any time."

She glanced at him one more time before heading down the steps.

It was strange. She wanted so badly for the man to ask for her phone number. Or for him to give her his.

But then it would seem as if his kindness was done just as a matter of hitting on her, because he wanted something in return.

That might have changed Cecilia's overall image of him.

She had glanced at his left hand as they spoke.

No ring.

How was it possible for a man like that to be single still? He had it all. Looks, charisma, kindness. If she had to guess, money.

She knew from working at the department store what expensive clothes looked like. His suit was definitely expensive.

She would never be his type.

In fact, she needed to forget about this encounter and move on with her life.

She needed to stay away from highfalutin men. Men like Ryan, who'd stood her up. Men like Garrick, who certainly had his pick of women.

In fact, if Cecilia were smart, she'd get out of this city ASAP.

But making good decisions had never been her specialty.