Chapter Ten

Matteo

My god, I'm not going to be able to control myself with her in that dress.

I need air, I think to myself as I follow her into her kitchen. This wasn't supposed to be a sexual thing right from the gate but if she keeps making choices like that, she won't have a choice in the matter anymore. And neither will I.

The things I want to do to her aren't exactly the gentlemanly kind of things I want for her.

I clear my throat and try to show a put together front.

I watch her fumble for a vase and realize I have never known a woman so in her own head. She probably has ten different thoughts racing away in that exceptionally bright mind of hers and it's all clouding her ability to function smoothly. It's both endearing and frustrating at the same time. I want to ease some of that anxiousness, help her to control some of those intrusive thoughts that tell her she isn't enough. That make her feel less than worth all that the world can give to her. I want to do it. And eventually, I will.

We head out to the car and I am pleased that she seemed impressed with my wine. I'm proud of it. And I want her to be, too.

After I make sure she's safely in the car, I look over at her as I drive to the restaurant she chose for us. I can tell she is enjoying the music. Her eyes look out the window but her body is responding to the emotions Chopin's Nocturne evokes. There is a light blush along her collar bone and up through her neck. And she keeps biting her lip, playing with her earring or shifting just so slightly when the piano raises in volume or becomes more emotive. I want to learn all of these things about her, these little nuances that make her, her.

I pull into the restaurant and see that it's actually a fairly classy looking place. Not the five star places I frequent in the city, but definitely nice for around here. She starts to open her door and I put my hand on hers and shake my head. She will never open her own door as long as I am around her.

I feel an overwhelming sense of pride as I help her out of the car on my arm.

"Thank you, that's really unnecessary," she says.

I ignore her words and take her arm, bringing her closer to me and placing my arm around her waist. It's more than necessary, I think to myself. I want the world to know this woman is on my arm.

"Table for Walker," she says as we greet the host at the door.

"Yes. Right this way."

We are seated at a table in a smaller section of the large, Victorian house that has been renovated into this lovely and quaint place to eat.

"I hope you like it. It's my favorite restaurant. And I never really come here so I was excited." Her honesty humbles me.

"Then I am glad we are here," I tell her.

She smiles and my heart stops. I realize then, at that moment, that making her smile will be a fix I will never get enough of. Knowing I cause her to react with happiness makes me feel like a man in ways I can't even explain.

"May I interest you in one of our house wines?" The server asks.

I want to take over and order what I feel is the best thing on the menu, but tonight is her night and I want it to be her choosing.

"Please, Adeline. Choose for us."

She seems to take that as a compliment and I can see she is also taking the responsibility of it quite seriously.

"We will have a bottle of the O'Shaughnessy Cabernet Howell Mountain, 2018, please."

Holy shit. She chose well.

"Excellent choice." The server says.

I'll fucking say.

She picked a 200 dollar bottle of wine and didn't even flinch because it's good wine. I think I am right where I belong.

"So, Matteo, tell me more about yourself. Who is the mysterious stranger living in my backyard."

And then the loaded questions come. Well, I didn't come here for nothing.