Page 92 of Savior
“I haven’t either.” He says.
“See? I figured it must have been dropped from the balcony of that party last night. Must have been somebody’s birthday. Maybe an over the hill themed party. I don’t know. Whatever though, it was too pretty to just leave out there to be trampled.”
“Alright.” He sighs, grabbing a napkin to wipe his mouth and hands off before he drops it down on his empty plate. “The MC is riding back today. But we can stay another night if you’d like. I’ll have Axel or Cherry look in on Nico for us.”
“Oh, Cherry has a key?”
He looks at me with slight curiosity. “That a problem? I mean, if it is, tell me. It’s your home now, too.”
“No, no problem.”
“You sure?”
“Yes. Does anyone else?”
“Viking.”
“Okay.”
He continues to stare at me. I’m not even sure myself why I even asked. Of course, she has a key. Axel and Cherry are so close to him. I decide I’m not going to dwell on anything Tessa mentioned last night.
“What will we do if we stay?” I ask, changing the topic.
“Have a birthday dinner redo? I’ll take you someplace nice.” He offers.
“I didn’t bring anything nice to wear.”
“I’ll take you shopping first. I do owe you a new dress.”
“You’re just full of facts this morning.” I tease him.
“So, yes?” he seems to genuinely want this.
“Alright.” I concede.
Another smile brightens his handsome face. “Aces, baby.”
We spend the day wandering the beachy town, visiting an aquarium and a wax museum. I luck out and actually find a little boutique that carries cute sundresses that will pass for dining attire in a restaurant.
After our day long excursion, we return to the hotel room for a leisurely nap, before it’s time to get ready for dinner.
“Are your jeans and motorcycle boots going get you past the hostess?” I ask, adjusting my dress in front of the mirror in the bathroom before I walk out. It’s not a Practical Magic style dress, like the one he ripped off of me that night. But it is pretty. A white floral print, off the shoulders, sexy little versatile shirred sundress. I could wear it out to a beachy restaurant, as well as to the farmers market, if I wanted.
“I got it covered, babe.” Dean says, opening the closet to remove a button-down dress shirt, shoes and khakis. “I ironed while you were sleeping this morning. Had it stuffed in our duffle bag in case you agreed to stay.”
“So, this was premeditated.”
“That it was.” When he turns to me, the happy expression in his eyes, shifts to something more lustful, as he looks me over in my new dress. “Fuck… You in these sundresses… I better hurry up and change before I yank that skirt up and make us late to dinner.”
Our reservation is at a restaurant, only a few blocks from our hotel. The outdoor dining area is more of a beach shack style, but with an upscale vibe. Inside, the walls are a natural stone, with ceramic tile flooring. Tables draped with white cloth and topped with tapered candles, border a little dance floor. Exposed rafters that dangle with stained glass light fixtures, create a comfortable ambiance. The live entertainment is a lounge singer, a beautiful woman with long, dark hair and a deep tanned complexion. The lights above the stage make her sequin cocktail dress sparkle whenever she moves. Her voice is thick and sultry, and reminds me of Toni Braxton. She’s singing a slower rendition of Michael Buble’s, Sway. I watch her under the lights of the small stage, the band playing behind her, as we’re led to our table set up near a huge wall of glass that overlooks the ocean. Her voice is mesmerizing, smoothly resonating throughout the dining room.
The menu consists of mostly seafood, not surprising, considering the location, but it also has a lot of Greek inspired dishes that I can chose from. When our waiter arrives, I order the Lemon Chicken with Spanakopita. Dean opts for a Gyro and a side of Dolmadakia. While waiting for the main course, we share a small Meze platter as an appetizer, and enjoy the music.
We’re nearly finished with our meal before I realize the songs the singer is performing, have been requested by diners here tonight, when I finally notice a waiter passing her a small card. She reads it to herself, before lifting the mic to announce her next performance.
“This next song is more than a request, it’s a dedication that goes out to a very special lady.” She says, lifting the card to read what’s written on it once again, as if she doesn’t want to make a mistake. Whomever made this request, must have wanted something significant and specific conveyed. “With admiration from afar, Dee Cain.”
“You want to take a look at dessert?” Dean asks, pulling my attention back to him. “The Baklava and the Rizogalo are supposed to be great. Or, we could get some Kourabiedes to go?”
