Lag (The boys of RDA #2)(44)
I stop by the kitchen counter to tuck in a stool and straighten a stack of mail on the counter. With nothing else to clean up in the area, I grab the almost full bag of trash and walk to the door. “I’ll take this out and see if he's here yet.”
Aspen leans across the kitchen counter with a knowing grin. “Have fun on your date. Remember what Marissa would say and make him work for it.” She waves from her position, but I only smile and shake my head in return.
By the second floor I almost turn around and forget the whole thing, but I still have this bag of trash to throw away. Aspen’s apartment’s a fourth floor walkup since we can’t use the elevator in the penthouse for normal everyday things. All the steps give me too much time to think.
For example, why the hell I agreed to this in the first place. With show time here, I remember all the reasons it’s a horrible idea. I shouldn’t give Trey another minute of my time, but I cave when he flashes me a little vulnerability. For a man who plays at perfect so much, it was apparent admitting he made a mistake with Mari was hard. Then there were all those words about us and the beach. He got to me.
In between my crying jags over my mom’s death and the lost job, Trey talked about his own family. While he described Finn’s family as supportive and loving, he was less than kind toward his own. Lester, his father, wasn’t around much and his mom jumped from boyfriend to boyfriend for years. Twenty years divorced, but they still don’t have a nice thing to say about one another. The whole affair didn’t sound stable for a young child. While his words were meant to help me through my own grief, they made me miss my mom more. She would have loved Trey.
I round the bend into the lobby right as Trey enters the front foyer with his eyes set on the apartment buzzers. “Trey,” I call out his name to save him the trouble. He spins on the tile floor and smiles when he sees me. “I have to drop this off.”
He closes the distance between us and takes the bag from my hand. “Let me.”
Before I protest he shoots out the side door and is back before I get more than two steps. I’m not sure if he just opened the door and threw it in the alley or if he actually made it in the dumpster, but I don’t question him.
“Are you parked out front?” I ask as we walk to the main door and out to the street.
Trey turns to our left and heads toward the bay. “No, I thought we’d walk.”
It’s barely past six, but the sky is already dark this late in November. The lights from shops as we pass by create shadows on Trey’s face casting him in different silhouettes. The street lights illuminate the small puddles from this afternoon's quick rain shower and I work to step over any water in our path. I don’t agree with it, but my body inches closer to his as we continue to walk. His jeans are looser than the khakis I’ve seen him in before. His thicker royal blue fleece hides the shirt underneath, but I suspect he changed after work. Trey doesn’t feel like the jeans-to-work kind of guy, even if it is a gaming company.
We walk a block in silence. Trey’s steps slow and we cross one last intersection before he pulls us to a stop on the other side of the Fairfield hotel. If I hadn’t been so impressed with the spacious hotel the first time I was here with my old boss Roger, I might not recognize it from this side angle.
A multi-faced golden statue sits next to a red velvet rope and a hostess stands in front of a rock wall. Above it all the word Tonga brightens the area in neon lights. I stand by the large “Please wait to be seated” sign as Trey checks in our reservation with the hostess. I have no idea where we are, but it’s an interesting setup for sure.
The blonde hostess walks to the large wooden double doors in front of me and pulls them open leading us through. “Welcome to the Tonga Room and Hurricane Bar.”
My eyes fall from her tall willowy frame to the area behind her once the doors are open completely. Polynesian, the first word to jump to the front of my mind for how the restaurant is decorated. As we walk to the table, I look around the square room full of bamboo-made tables placed underneath small thatched roofs made from large dried leaves.
A flat boat with instruments for a band floats on a large rectangular pool smack dab in the middle of the room. The boat sways as the musicians on stage play a soft melody I can’t quite pick up. We stop at a table separated from the water by a small bamboo rail and I wait while Trey pulls out my chair. He hasn’t spoken, but I also haven’t missed him watching my reactions to the place. It’s not until his hand reaches out toward the water and comes back wet that I notice there’s a small rain storm being simulated on the edges of the pool.
“Do you like it?” he asks.
I might be in slight awe as I sit. “Like it? I love it.” I look over the railing and see rocks attached to the pool wall with large thick ropes.
“I thought it would remind us of our first night at the tiki bar.”
I remove my eyes from the water and gauge his face. “You mean our first meeting?” I reference the almost neutering I gave him. “Or the more enjoyable second meeting?"
He laughs. “Both.”
The waitress takes our drink order and I use her distraction as a chance to open my menu. While every action from this gorgeous faced man is calm and maybe a little calculated, I’m a mess. I might be tall, but his presence alone engulfs my space when he’s near. My nerves increased during our silent walk and now I can’t think of a single thing to say. I have no idea what I’m supposed to do with Trey.