Consequences by Aleatha Romig Read Free Book Online Page B

to get off tomorrow at six, but if you recall from last night, it isn’t always prompt. I could be ready by seven, if that isn’t too late for you?”
    His tone was lighter and quicker. “Wonderful. Should I pick you up at the Red Wing or your place?”
    Oh god, she wasn’t ready for him to know where she lived. “I can meet you—”
    He cut her off. “I am sure you can, but let me pick you up in style. I will see you at seven at the Red Wing, and we are going to Chez Czar. Until tomorrow, Claire.” The telephone disconnected.
    For the next sixty to seventy minutes, the barrage of orders and customers needing pacification kept her mind from fully registering her actions. She’d accepted an invitation to one of the top dining spots in Atlanta with someone she barely knew. She broke her “ no dating a customer ” rule and her “ no going in the same car on a first date ” rule. But maybe the first date was in the booth at the Red Wing. Then this will officially be the second date, which is totally acceptable. Oh my, what would she wear?
    At six fifteen, she officially clocked out, her register balanced. In the back of the bar, there was a small locker room where the female employees kept their purses, coats, and extra clothes. Claire knew her Red Wing T-shirt and jeans wouldn’t make the Chez Czar cut. Besides, the last time she saw Anthony, he was wearing a very nice suit.
    Opening her locker, she pulled out a black dress. She hadn’t had much time this morning, but after shaving her legs, she decided to run to Greenbriar Mall and see if Macy’s had anything in her price range. It turned out there was nothing for free, but she did find a simple black dress on its second markdown. It was shorter than she normally wore, but it fit, and she didn’t have time to be picky. After a quick run through Burlington’s, a pair of simple black heeled sandals was purchased. She had a black cotton half sweater that complemented the dress well and would be perfect for a cool spring evening.
    After changing her clothes and stuffing her T-shirt and jeans back into the locker, she looked at herself in the mirror. She immediately felt silly. This wasn’t her. She was jeans, T-shirts, and tennis shoes.
    Some eyeliner, mascara, and lipgloss accompanied by a quick brush through her hair were as good as it would get. Judging by the hoots from both sides of the bar when she entered the front of the Red Wing, she did all right. “Check you out, hot stuff. Where are you going all dolled up?” Claire’s manager had a variety of voices in his repertoire. This was his flirting one.
    Feeling playful, she decided to throw it back to him and respond all Southern belle , “Why, sir”—the syllables drawn-out—“I don’t know what you mean.” He raised his eyebrows and stared. “Well, goodness gracious, I do have a little ‘ole date with a tall dark, handsome stranger.”
    A few minutes later, Claire saw a shiny black Porsche pull up to the front of the bar. “See y’all later. Don’t wait up.” The coworkers behind the bar did some more hoot’n and holler’n. Claire smiled as the voices faded into the sounds of the night on the other side of the door.
    Anthony got out of the driver’s side. Immediately, she was pleased that she decided to find a dress. His light-colored Armani suit was perfectly tailored. His greeting was polite as he once again kissed her hand and escorted her around to the passenger’s door. The simple act seemed elegant.
    Being a four-star authentic Italian restaurant in the heart of Atlanta, everyone knew Chez Czar had a reputation for being a difficult place to get reservations for. However, the hostess immediately guided them to one of their best tables.
    When the waiter arrived with menus, Anthony immediately asked for their best bottle of Batasiolo Barolo. After the waiter departed, Claire began to look at the menu. She couldn’t help notice there were no prices. What did that mean? When she