Sneek Peak~~Chapter 4

“Exactly,” he nods, happy for the affirmation.  “Michelle could never get that.  Work time is work time.  I don’t need to be chatting on the phone with her all day long.  And then after work, I like to have a drink with the guys, unwind, shoots some pool, play golf.  But no, if I shut off my phone and turn it on again a couple hours later, there are fifteen messages from her and clients griping that I’m never available.  You know, screw it I’m not available for people who don’t respect me.”

I nod.  “That’s smart that you stand up for yourself.”

“Oh yeah,” Wesley continues to jingle the change, which is getting annoying.  “No one messes with me.  Not gonna happen.”

His phone beeps again and he pulls it out and texts some more.

The hostess returns and picks up two menus.  “Your table is ready.  This way, please?”

Wesley lets me go first, which makes me nervous as we wind through the restaurant.  At least the tables are far enough apart that I don’t knock olives and Feta cheese into anyone’s lap, but by going first, it gives Wesley a close up view of my butt, which is not my most alluring feature which I want to feature on a first date.

Our table is one of those cozy, romantic tables for two, complete with jar candle.  “Do you mind if I sit there?”  Wesley asks before I can pull out the chair.  “I don’t like sitting with my back to the door.”

“Sure, no problem,” I agree and squeeze past him and the hostess to get to the other side.

“Great, thanks,” he says and sits down without waiting for me to sit first or holding my chair.  The hostess hands us our menu and leaves.  Wesley doesn’t open his.  “Do you know what you want so we can order right away?” he asks.

“Uh, no, I’ve never been here before,” I reply, taken aback by his briskness.

“I come here all the time.  Want me to order for you?  We’ll get our food faster that way.”

I close the menu.  “Sure.”

“Great,” he nods and snaps his fingers.  “Anatole, hey, we’re ready to order,” he calls.

Anatole rushes to our table.  “Wesley, good to see you,” a tall, slender man with olive skin and dark hair greets with a thick Greek accent.  “The usual for you?  Start off with pita bread and hummus, then Greek salad and moussaka.”

“You know it and the same for my lady friend here.  Which wine do you recommend?”
Anatole jots down our order.  “Tempranillo or Shiraz is good.”

“I trust your judgment.  Bring which ever one you like best,” Wesley claps him on the back.  Anatole gives a slight bow and hastens away.  Wesley turns his full attention on me.

“So, we meet at last.  Do you meet a lot of guys online?”  He folds his arms on the table and leans forward.

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