Chapter 2

"The girl in the royal green dress and black stilettos with red hair and fair skin—that’s your date. She’s also carrying a white purse. You won’t miss her."

That was the heads-up from Tasty Cake. Jeff shot it over in his last text before vanishing off the face of the earth.

When he tried calling, Jeff’s phone was either dead or out of battery. Same result either way.

And now here he was, scanning every corner of the damn restaurant, and still no sign of a girl that matched the description. He’d been circling the place for a while now. No eighteen-year-old in a green dress.

He knew he was in the right place. There was only one Western restaurant on this street.

He glanced at his watch— five minutes past nine. No way she bailed already, right?

He swept his eyes back across the restaurant. The place was packed: families hogging entire tables, groups of friends, couples pretending to like each other.

Three empty tables had reservation signs on them. One of those had to be theirs.

He was about to ask which one when he glanced at the entrance— still no one at the reception desk. Same as when he arrived. Busy night, fair enough.

“Good evening, Sir. Do you have a reservation?”

He turned to find a waiter standing behind him, smiling like he had stocks in the place and a notepad in hand.

“I’m sure my date made one for us.”

“Your name, Sir?”

“Phi—I mean, I’m Jefferson.”

“Ah, Mr. Jefferson Vega?”

Jefferson Vega?

Really, Jeff? Out of all names, you picked something that sounds like a bootleg action star?

“Uh, yeah. That’s me.”

“Perfect timing, Sir. Miss TeeCay just arrived.”

TeeCay?

Did he mean Tasty Cake?

“Your companion for the evening. She just went to the powder room. You can wait at your table. I’ll show you the way.”

The waiter led the way, and he followed.

They stopped at a table in the corner with a reservation sign. The waiter scooped it up and gestured to the chair.

He thanked him and said they’d order later. Once alone, he gave the place another once-over.

The restaurant exuded luxury. Matte white walls were adorned with black-and-white framed photos of iconic American landmarks—the Statue of Liberty, the Golden Gate Bridge, Hollywood, the Grand Canyon, and more. The tables and chairs were made of polished wood, the floors sleek black marble, and two chandeliers hung overhead, clearly trying to make a statement.

Nice. Fancy. And, if Jeff’s message was right, the client was footing the bill.

On a regular date, he’d never let the woman pay. But this wasn’t a regular date.

He kept glancing around. People trickling in, hunting for tables, waiters scrambling. His eyes flicked to the powder room near the entrance— just in time to catch a woman in a green dress stepping out.

The same waiter from earlier approached her, said something quick, and her gaze locked on him.

TeeCay...?

His eyes dropped to her dress—royal green, V-neckline. White purse, black stilettos.

Yup, that’s her.

He looked back at her face.

She was pretty. Red hair popped against her fair skin like she was built for contrast.

He let out a slow breath.

No doubt about it—the woman walking straight toward him was his date. Jeff’s client. Tasty Cake herself.

There was no mistaking it based on the description.

But Jeff left out one tiny, crucial detail.

He forgot to mention she was bouncy and solid. Okay—chubby. Cute and chubby.

Tasty Cake had more curves than Deewee, and she was maybe a few inches taller. Smooth, porcelain skin and a soft, round face that practically said I’m adorable and you can’t say no to me.

Okay. Okay... okay.

It’s just one night.

She only needed company. He could handle that.

Probably.

He stood up, forcing a smile as she made her way over. Her eyes were bright— was that relief?