Say You're Mine: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Southport Love Stories Book 4), Sarah Brooks [urban books to read .txt] 📗

Damn, I looked good.

It wasn’t just the dress that I had bought on a whim when Rob suggested we take a trip out of town. It wasn’t just the glow on my skin that was a result of having my brains screwed out not once but twice since we checked in.

I knew what it was.

It was happiness.

I couldn’t remember another time in my life when I felt this warmth bursting in the center of my chest. Everything felt right. It felt like I had been building up to this moment, with this man.

Because it was very clear to me that I was madly, stupidly in love with Robert Jenkins.

And that terrified me.

But it was exhilarating at the same time. He wasn’t Mac and he wasn’t my parents. He was every sweet, honest, wonderful thing I could have ever imagined.

I never got dressed up. My usual uniform consisted of jeans and t-shirts. If you had asked me six months ago if I would enjoy getting all dolled up to go out to a fancy-schmancy restaurant I would have yelled ‘hell no!’

But now, I was giddy with excitement. I felt good. I felt powerful. I felt sexy as hell. Because Robert made me feel that way. And because I felt that. I wouldn’t attribute all this newfound awesomeness to Robert alone. It had a lot to do with me and finally getting rid of that massive, heavyweight that had been holding me down my whole life.

For the first time, I could picture a life without the worry of being hurt.

I came out of the bathroom and stopped for a moment to stare at...was he my boyfriend? Is that what I should call him? What else was he?

He was staring down at his phone frowning, his brown hair that he kept shaggy, hung in his face. His glasses perched on the edge of his nose. He was wearing a tailored pair of black slacks and a fitted green shirt. I could see the definition of his body and I felt my panties getting wet again at the memory of touching that chiseled flesh. Of how only an hour ago he had me bent over the bed, his fingers digging into my hips as he…

“God, you look gorgeous,” he breathed, looking up at me. He quickly tucked his phone in his pocket and crossed the room to me in long strides. He gently swept my hair behind my shoulders and kissed my forehead, his lips lingering there. It was more intimate than any other kiss he could give me.

I closed my eyes briefly, feeling overwhelmed with emotion. “Thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.” My voice cracked and I had to swallow around the lump that had formed there. Stony, stoic Skylar Murphy had dissolved into an emotive pile of goo. All because of Robert freaking Jenkins.

“We should get going. Our reservations are at eight.” He picked up my jacket, holding it open for me to put on.

He took my hand, lifting it to his mouth and kissing the knuckles. We made our way to the lobby, where Robert asked the concierge to get us a taxi. Ten minutes later we were standing outside a brightly lit restaurant. It was packed. I could also see a line that had formed along the sidewalk, waiting to get in.

“Wow, this looks like a popular spot,” I observed as we made our way to the maître d. “How in the world did you get reservations at such short notice?”

“The head chef is an old friend of mine. Will Stetson.” Robert gave his name to the man at the door.

“Will Stetson is your friend? Jesus, Rob, way to be all blasé about being friends with an actual celebrity,” I gasped as the maître d immediately led us inside. Will Stetson was a well-known Michelin star chef from Philadelphia. He had cooked for everyone from the president to Lady Gaga. I used to watch his cooking show religiously.

“I didn’t realize you knew who he was,” Robert said.

“I haven’t been living under a rock,” I sputtered. “How do you know him again?”

The maître d stopped at what appeared to be one of the nicest tables in the restaurant. It was a concealed booth lit with ambient lighting.

We sat down and he ordered us a bottle of wine and the rather stiff man said he’d inform Mr. Stetson that we had arrived. I looked at the menu, not knowing where to start.

Robert took the menu from my hands and set it to the side. “Will said he’d make us a tasting menu. It will be a mixture of several dishes.”

A pretty young woman came to our table with the bottle of wine, pouring it into our glasses before leaving it in a shiny bucket of ice at the side of our table. “Mr. Stetson says he’s provided you with a special menu of courses. You’re in for a real treat,” she gushed.

“Thank you, we’re looking forward to it,” Robert smiled, his eyes only on me. Once the waitress left he lifted his glass. “To a wonderful weekend together.”

I clinked my glass to his. “To your family not hating me and me not spilling food all over my dress in this super fancy restaurant.”

We both laughed and Robert took my hand. “Even if you spill stuff all over you, you’ll still be the most beautiful woman in the room.” His eyes were warm as he looked at me and he made me believe everything he said.

Our waitress brought three different appetizers to start us off. It all looked amazing. I took a bite of what was described as crab risotto with green chili and puffed rice. “Oh my god. I think I’ve died and gone to heaven,” I moaned.

“You have to try this. It’s black truffle and mozzarella ravioli.” Robert and I swapped plates and then ate the Spanish octopus with crispy garlic together.

“Your friend is one hell of