Saturday night, 8 p.m. sharp, Ryan pulled up to the upscale Iron City restaurant Chloe had picked—a sleek spot with dim lighting, polished wood, and a low hum of jazz.
He spotted Chloe first.
Hard not to.
She was stunning, rocking a black dress that hugged her curves, her hair swept up, a single silver necklace glinting against her skin.
Ryan's heart did a quick stutter, but he played it cool.
Next to her sat Selena Hartley.
Ryan gave her a polite once-over. Sweet face, sleek ponytail, designer earrings that didn't scream money but whispered it. But his attention drifted back to Chloe almost immediately.
After introductions, they ordered—steaks, salads, a bottle of red—and the vibe was easy, conversation flowing like the wine.
Once the plates were cleared, Selena leaned in slightly.
"By the way," she said, flashing a sheepish smile, "I think we were both at the Sky Lounge a few weeks back. I didn't say hi—hope that wasn't rude."
Ryan waved it off. "No worries."
