Free Nothing More Beautiful by Lorelai LaBelle Page B

from the floor.
    “All right, well, hold on—let me get your
number.” She climbed off of her machine and rummaged through her
bag for her phone.
    I was about to decline when she retrieved
it, so I gave her my number in a rush, making a B-line for the
stairs afterward. Unable to elude Vince’s vigilance, he nodded and
waved at me, starting to jog my way.
    “In a hurry,” I shrieked, keeping my eyes on
the stairs. My breathing didn’t start up again until I was outside.
Reaching Eddie in the bakery parking lot, I rested against his
frame, gasping. I hadn’t run so quickly since track, nearly seven
years ago. I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what made me
flee like that, but talking about Vince’s body just made my
attraction too real, and made those secret urges too palpable.
    Letting the heater warm up, I beat the
steering wheel with my fists. Then I headed home, scolding myself
the entire way.
     
    I SHOOK OFF THE gym,
showered, and picked out my outfit for the night, allowing for
plenty of time in case I needed to change. To Danielle’s delight, I
selected one on my own and stuck with it. A pair of super-tight
jeggings made it look like I had a butt to speak of, and the
push-up I chose could have fooled me into thinking that I had
D-cups. I wore a revealing red blouse in the hopes that tonight I
might move on from Ryan, as all my friends kept pushing for.
    Andre, aka ThePortlandPirate, offered to
pick me up, but just in case the night didn’t go as planned, I
wanted my own ride. On the way to dinner, my mind pored over what
ThePortlandPirate could signify, as Danielle’s words echoed in my
head. I remembered that pirates and ninjas had been a fad a few
years ago, so maybe it was a lingering name from those days, or
maybe he owned a boat and that was its name. My guesses went on and
on.
    I pulled onto Johnson Street, then turned on
13 th , hoping a spot would be free. I got lucky again,
parking in the same spot from Saturday. However, this time I only
had to cross the street to reach my destination, Irving Street
Kitchen, a place I’d dreamed about patronizing for years, but had
never wanted to fork out the money. There was a 50/50 chance this
way that I wouldn’t have to.
    Andre was waiting inside. He stood when the
hostess brought me to him. Dressed in a fine gray suit, his smooth
dark skin contrasted perfectly, almost glowing. My eyes locked on
him, unable to turn away. At 31, he was a little older, but that
was okay as he was even more attractive than his picture led on—a
welcomed change from the last two dates.
    “You must be Maci,” he said, loosely
wrapping his arms around me. He had an aura about him that eased my
nerves.
    “Hi.” I returned the hug. “And you must be
Andre.”
    “The one and only.” He let go and pulled out
my chair, all his beautiful white teeth showing. He looked so much
like Ryan: tall, short hair, muscular, but much better dressed.
“I’m glad you agreed to the date,” he said, as I sat down. “Sorry
we had to do it midweek. I’m going out of town this weekend, but I
was too excited to wait.”
    “Oh, it’s no problem. I was very glad to get
your message.” I touched his arm in a flirty way. Ryan once told me
that that turned him on—the simple contact—so maybe it would with
Andre too. “I was also happy you chose this place.”
    “You’ve been here before?” he asked,
situating his napkin on his thigh under the table.
    I followed his example. “No, but I’ve parked
across the street enough,” I said, trying to be witty.
    He flashed a brief, uneasy smile, as though
he didn’t comprehend the joke. “Well, I like everything on the
menu. I recommend it all.”
    “You come here often, I take it?”
    “All the time, especially for breakfast. I
absolutely love their omelets.” Our conversation continued like
that until our waiter came and presented the night’s specials. I
wondered the entire time how much money he made, able and willing
to