The Long Game by Fynn J. L

Author:Fynn, J. L. [Fynn, J. L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Romance, Contemporary
ISBN: 9781491006894
Amazon: 1491006897
Barnesnoble: 1491006897
Goodreads: 18603661
Publisher: CreateSpace
Published: 2013-10-07T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

“WHAT DO YOU mean you didn’t make a reservation?” Spencer pulled me to a stop in the middle of a tree-lined path in Philadelphia’s Rittenhouse Square. “You can’t just walk into Jardin and ask for a table.”

“Spence, it’ll be fine.” I started down the path again, but she yanked her hand from mine.

“Shane, this is ridiculous. We’re not getting in, and even if we could, it’s a terrible idea. That place is crazy expensive. There are tons of other great restaurants within walking distance. We can go to one of those.”

“I thought you said you’ve been wanting to try it.”

“I have, but—”

“And that you like French food.”

“Yeah, but, Shane—”

“Then we’re going. Come on.” I held my hand out to her. “It’ll be fun.”

She scrunched her mouth to one side, fighting a smile. “You’re trouble, you know that?”

“I do,” I said with a proud grin. “Now let’s go.”

She smiled and took my hand. “Why, because we’re going to be late for our nonexistent reservation?”

We crossed 18th Street and walked to a brown brick building with red awnings. Yellow Art Deco lettering on gray slate spelled out the restaurant’s name.

I pulled open one of the doors and held it for Spencer. She hesitated but finally relented with a shake of her head and stepped inside.

The interior of the restaurant was decorated like a 19th century Paris bistro, complete with Lautrec lithographs and colorful Tiffany light fixtures. A bar dominated one side of the lower level, and a long, mahogany leather banquette lined with tables occupied the other. Nearly every seat in the house was filled, but a quick look around revealed a handful of two-tops still sitting empty. A podium at the front of the room served as the hostess station, and a girl with a bored expression and jet black hair cut in a sharp angle from her ears to her chin stood behind it.

I glanced down at Spencer who stood beside me, clinging to my arm. “Okay. So, whatever I say, just go along with it.”

Spencer’s amber eyes went wide, but she didn’t have a chance to argue before I strode toward the podium, her arm still wrapped in mine.

“Can I help you?” the hostess asked.

“Yeah, I have an eight o’clock reservation for two. I know we’re a little early, but that table over there in the corner would be just fine if it’s open.”

The girl turned to look where I’d pointed, and I leaned over her podium to quickly scan the book open on its surface. Her attention returned to me, and I tipped back from her stand again.

“Name?”

“Utley,” I said, hoping I’d deciphered her loopy scrawl correctly.

Spencer’s nails dug into my arm, but I ignored it and met the hostess’s skeptical expression with a calm smile.

“Utley?” she repeated.

“Yep.” I nodded. “Table for two, eight o’clock.”

One of her penciled-in eyebrows arched dramatically. “Chase Utley?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Chase Utley. The second baseman for the Phillies?”

Fuck. “Well.” I laughed, buying for time. “I mean, of course I’m not Chase Utley.” I put my arm around Spencer’s shoulder.

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