When Cee finally stepped out of the café, stretching her sore arms, she was startled to see a familiar car parked nearby.
Carlos.
He stepped out as soon as he saw her, shoving his hands into his pockets, his expression unreadable.
"Hey," she greeted hesitantly.
He stared at her for a moment before sighing. "I'm sorry."
Cee blinked. "For what?"
"For earlier. For… overstepping." His eyes searched hers. "I just—seeing that guy touch you like that—" His jaw tightened. "I lost it."
She looked down, toeing a small pebble on the pavement. "I was actually going to text you," she admitted. "I wanted to apologize too. I know you were just trying to help, and I shouldn't have snapped at you."
Carlos exhaled, relieved. "So we're good?"
She nodded, offering a small smile. "Yeah, we're good."
For a moment, they just stood there under the streetlights, the night air cool around them.
Then Carlos smirked. "But you know, you should still quit that job."
Cee rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. "Oh, really? And what, just magically have money appear in my account?"
His expression darkened. "I'm just saying, if this job puts you in danger, you shouldn't be there."
She exhaled, shaking her head. "Carlos, I appreciate what you did today, but this is my business, not yours."
His hands clenched into fists, but he exhaled through his nose, forcing himself to calm down. "Fine. Forget I said anything."
She expected him to storm off after that, but instead, he ran a hand down his face and sighed. Then, unexpectedly, his tone softened.
"Look… I don't want to argue with you." He hesitated for a moment, then looked at her. "How about dinner?"
Cee blinked, caught off guard. "What?"
"Dinner," he repeated. "You know… to prove that you've really forgiven me for earlier."
She narrowed her eyes, arms still folded. "I don't need to prove anything."
Carlos smirked. "So you haven't forgiven me?"
Cee let out a small, tired sigh. "That's not what I said."
"Then dinner it is."
Cee hesitated at Carlos' invitation. Dinner? With him?
She had already decided to put their little misunderstanding behind her, but going to dinner felt… personal. Too close.
"I don't think that's a good idea," she said, shifting her bag on her shoulder.
Carlos raised an eyebrow. "Why not?"
She opened her mouth to respond but realized she didn't have a good reason. It wasn't like she had other plans. And he had helped her today, so turning him down now felt… ungrateful.
Carlos smirked, as if reading her internal struggle. "Come on. It's just dinner. Think of it as a peace offering. Besides, I know a great place—you won't regret it."
Cee sighed, rolling her eyes. "Fine. Just dinner."
Carlos grinned, stepping aside and motioning toward his car like a chauffeur. "Your carriage awaits."
She scoffed but walked toward the car. She had expected something flashy—maybe a sports car or something overly expensive—but his car was sleek, sophisticated, and well-maintained. It suited him.
As she slid into the passenger seat, the scent of leather mixed with something undeniably Carlos—warm, clean, and just a hint of spice. She inhaled involuntarily, her senses betraying her.
He started the engine, the low hum vibrating beneath them as he pulled onto the street.
---
The ride was smooth. Too smooth.
Carlos was a confident driver. He didn't just control the wheel; he commanded it. His movements were fluid, precise. His left hand gripped the steering wheel effortlessly while his right rested near the gear shift, fingers flexing occasionally. The streetlights cast faint shadows over his features, highlighting the sharp angles of his jaw, the way his dark eyes flickered between the road and the rearview mirror.
Cee tried not to stare.
Tried and failed.
The way his forearm muscles tensed slightly when he turned the wheel. The veins that subtly lined his skin, disappearing beneath the cuff of his sleeve. The way his knuckles flexed when he tapped the steering wheel at a red light.
It was mesmerizing.
She swallowed. What the hell was she doing?
He was just a guy.
A guy with a deep voice, a dangerously attractive smirk, and a body she suddenly found herself wondering about.
Did he have abs? Probably.
Cee bit her lip, shifting her gaze out the window to snap herself out of it. This was ridiculous. She barely knew him. And yet, she was sitting here, distracted by how good he smelled and how his cologne mixed with the faint scent of coffee lingering from the café.
Damn it.
Thankfully, before she could spiral further into her completely inappropriate thoughts, Carlos pulled into a parking lot.
"We're here," he announced, shutting off the engine.
Cee blinked, gathering herself as she looked up at the restaurant. It was elegant but not overly fancy, the kind of place that suggested sophistication without screaming wealth.
Carlos got out first and walked around to open her door.
She raised an eyebrow. "Chivalry? That's unexpected."
He smirked. "I have my moments."
Rolling her eyes, she stepped out, ignoring the flutter in her chest as his hand hovered near her lower back—not touching, but close enough to make her aware of his presence.
Carlos led her inside, where a waiter greeted them warmly.
"Ah, Mr. Milton Your usual table?"
Cee glanced at Carlos. "You come here often?"
He shrugged. "Best steak in town."
She smirked. "Let me guess. You're a steak guy."
"And you're a… salad girl?" he teased.
She laughed. "Wrong. I'm a pasta girl."
Carlos chuckled as they followed the waiter to a private booth. "Good. I hate watching people eat leaves for dinner."
Cee rolled her eyes but couldn't hide her amusement.
As they sat down and glanced at the menu, she realized something.
This felt… comfortable.
Too comfortable.
And she wasn't sure if that was a good thing.
---