Read Icing on the Cake for Free Online

Go.”
    Aerial left them sitting in the idling car. She didn’t wait for them to say goodbye, because if she didn’t walk off right then, they would find a reason to wait around to see if Brice showed up. And she definitely didn’t want that to happen. If he didn’t show, she didn’t want an audience to witness her being publicly rejected.
    As she entered P. F. Chang’s, the cool air conditioning felt wonderful on her hot skin. Still no rain, but spring in the Triad area, the GSO, meant all kinds of bizarre weather—like today—nearly eighty degrees with incredible humidity. It felt like August in April.
    “How many in your party, ma’am?” asked a petite, brunette hostess. She had to look up at Aerial. With her skinny arms filled with menus, she waited expectantly.
    “Two,” answered a resonate voice from behind Aerial. “Please.”
    She turned around to find Brice, dressed handsomely in a peach, button-down shirt and navy—nearly-black—slacks. He looked delicious, a delectable fruit she wanted to nibble on. With his tanned skin and white-blond hair, he caused quite the stir from others around them.
    The hostess stared up at them.
    “Two please,” Aerial said with a smile.
    “Follow me,” the hostess said. Flustered, she dropped some of the menus, slipped on them and finally managed to calm down enough to lead them to a raised wrap-around booth.
    Brice waited while Aerial scooted into the seat, before sitting across from her. The hostess gave them menus, apologized again for the inconvenience, and scampered off as quickly as humanly possible.
    “That was awkward.”
    “What was?” Brice asked, opening the menu.
    “The hostess acted like we were a circus event.”
    “Some people have no couth.”
    Aerial smiled at him as she remembered his behavior just a week ago.
    “Are you comfortable?” He met her eyes across the top of his menu. “We can ask for a table.”
    “How are you this evening, Aerial? Thank you for asking, Brice. I’m good,” Aerial said, sarcastically.
    His hazel eyes, made more gold by his shirt, met hers. She couldn’t see his mouth because of the menu, but she swore he was smiling.
    “Sorry. How are you, Aerial?” Brice asked, sheepishly.
    In fact, she could hear the hint of amusement in his tone. Did he have a smile in his voice?
    “Are you smiling?” She reached across the table. Snatching his menu before he could use it to hide, she wanted to see for herself. He looked back at her with surprise, but he was not smiling.
    “No,” he said with eyebrows raised.
    She nodded and handed him the menu back. “Sorry.”
    “What’s the matter? What was that all about?”
    “Nothing,” she said, her eyes lowered to the table, breaking away from his.
    “Were you waiting long?” he asked, returning his gaze to the menu.
    “Not really, but how did you get here so fast?”
    “I was at the bar. I’ve been here since 4:30.”
    Aerial sat up and peered across the table at him. “Why?”
    “To make sure I didn’t miss you,” he said casually, but underneath that matter-of-fact tone lay something Aerial couldn’t believe she’d heard. Honesty. Sincerity.
    “Welcome to P.F. Chang’s. I’m Melody, your server.”
    They ordered drinks—sweet tea for her, water for him. Aerial couldn’t tell if he’d been drinking, but Brice had shown up. He didn’t stand her up, and again, she found her heart warming to that idea, clinging to it. But was she being foolish? Her sister’s words came flooding back about him—a loner, rude, and moody. Friendless and alone, Brice pushed people away. Aerial had witnessed him trying to keep her at bay—the café and again at the office. Something horrible must’ve happened to make him so miserable with himself.
    Aerial didn’t pity him; she found him beautiful—not just outside, but inside too. Whatever he did to make Antonio shape up had to be something. She’d worked the last four nights at the café and he had barely said more than