The First Taste(61)

“Let’s hold off,” I say.

“Why?” Sadie asks. “She’s got staying power, Amelia. Someone’ll scoop her up if they aren’t wooing her already.”

I scratch my eyebrow, glancing at the back of Andrew’s head. Strangely, he knows more about my situation with Reggie than anyone in my office. “I trust your instinct,” I tell Sadie. “But just keep doing what you’re doing. We’ll revisit in a few weeks.”

“Okay . . .”

Andrew opens the door to the restaurant. Bell and Sadie walk through, and as I follow, he taps my ass. I haven’t forgotten that it only took one kiss earlier to make him twitch against me. Or that he came all this way to see me. I might’ve been able to say no if I’d forgotten about him this week like I’d planned. When he suddenly left the hotel after I’d worked up the nerve to spend a second night with him, I remembered why we had an arrangement in the first place. But seeing him unexpectedly in the office just now made me realize how gray my week had been until that moment. And I didn’t want to forget. Time with Andrew—our baths, conversations, sex—has been the most at peace I’ve felt in months. Maybe even since Reggie left.

The hostess greets us. It’s early for dinner, so the restaurant is nearly empty. She leads us to a four-top table with two chairs on each side.

“Do you want to sit by me or Aunt Sadie?” Andrew’s deep voice carries over all our heads, like something I could reach up and touch.

“Aunt Sadie,” Bell says. She and Sadie claim one side of the table, which leaves Andrew and me standing. I look back at him for direction. I’m not used to being around children, and I’ve never dated a man with one. Does he need to be across from her? Will he need to cut her food or distract her when she gets bored and starts acting up?

He grins, almost as if he finds my discomfort amusing, then gestures to the chair facing Bell. He sits next to me.

Almost immediately, a waiter drops off a basket of bread and a paper menu with crayons for Bell. “Evening, folks. Something to drink?”

I open my mouth to order a white wine, but Sadie interrupts me. “Just water for us.”

I shut my mouth and frown. Does one child at the table seriously mean all three adults need to remain sober? Directly across from me, Bell tilts her head, studying me as if she’s reading my thoughts. For a split second, I’m worried she can. “You work with Aunt Sadie?”

I glance over at Sadie, who answers for me. “Yes.”

“Actually, that’s not true,” I say, lacing my hands in front of me and leaning in. “I’m your aunt’s boss. I get to tell her what to do.”

Bell smiles. “Like my dad. He’s the boss of Randy and Pico and all the guys at the shop. Except Burt.”

“Who’s Burt?” Sadie asks.

Andrew clears his throat. “Burt is Bell’s imaginary friend.”

“No he isn’t,” Bell says, nearly giggling. “He’s the man who fixes Daddy’s motorcycle when Daddy doesn’t know how.”

He rolls his eyes. “Daddy doesn’t need help. Maybe in your imaginary world.”

Sadie and I narrow our eyes on Andrew at the same moment, but he focuses on his menu. “Even experts need help sometimes,” he mutters, then coughs into his fist. I swear he says “traitor.”

“So do you get to wear a lot of makeup and expensive clothes too?” Bell asks me.

I turn back to her. “All the time.”

Her eyes light up. “Cool. I can’t wait until I get to wear makeup.”

“Which will be never,” Andrew says, turning a page of the menu.

“Aunt Sadie already let me.”

He jerks his head up. “Excuse me?”

“B-e-e-ll,” Sadie says. “Are you physically incapable of keeping secrets?”

Bell nods, smiling at me. “Families don’t keep secrets. That’s what my dad says.”

Andrew sighs. “Christ.”

I look from Bell to Andrew and Sadie, who seemed to be locked in some kind of stare down. “Did you hear that?” Sadie asks. “Family doesn’t keep secrets.”

“I heard. And you promised you’d keep that shit away from her.”

“Come on—she’s a girl,” Sadie says. “She’s curious about these things. We played dress up around the apartment.”

“She’s not even seven,” he argues.

Sadie butters a piece of bread, shrugging. “You keep it from her, and she’ll just want it more.”

Sensing Andrew’s irritation, I address Bell. “Your aunt and I try to get women to want makeup and clothing from our clients,” I say, “but you want to hear a secret?”

Bell leans her forearms onto the table, mirroring my posture. “Yes. I’m very good with secrets.”

“It’s mostly bullsh—” I stop and look at Andrew. “Not everyone needs makeup. In fact, most women look best with only very little.”

Bell looks at her dad. She picks up a crayon, taps it on the table, and squints, skeptical. “Really?”

I nod. “The secret to being beautiful is confidence.” As an afterthought, I add my mom’s advice to me. “Confidence—and great skin.”