Page 36 of Shake Your Boo Thang

“This place is real fancy.” Beau whistles admiringly as he looks around the little Southbank French bistro I’ve brought us to. He winks at me. “I’d say you’re off to a great start with this date you’ve planned, Mr. Fraser.”

I shift in my seat, both relieved he’s pleased and strangely nervous about spending time with him on a date like this. In fact, all while I was getting ready this evening, I felt edgy but also full of anticipation.

I don’t know what kind of magic Beau Montgomery has worked on me, but I can’t stop thinking about him. And I can’t stop thinking about what he’s said about us being together. And having hot monkey sex…

Our server greets us, and I will my mind to stop sending thoughts in that direction.

We get a bottle of red wine for the table and put in our entrée orders. Then it’s just the two of us.

The bistro has a European Old-World flair matched with a cozy intimacy that’s clearly designed for couples to dine together. Overhead lights are turned down low, and candles adorn each table, casting soft, warm light all around us.

This place screams super romantic date night.

Fucking hell, Liz. You recommended this place to me on purpose, didn’t you?

I was the fool who didn’t bother to check the online reviews, which no doubt emphasize the romantic atmosphere of the place.

That belated realization that I’ve unintentionally taken this date to the next level has me sweating bullets.

Beau leans forward and rests his elbows on the table as he studies me beneath hooded eyes. In the glow of the candlelight, he looks even more beautiful, almost fae-like in appearance. The graceful line of his jaw, his stunning green eyes framed by thick lashes, and his perfect pink lips have me transfixed.

Temptation, thy name is Beau Montgomery.

“Tell me more about yourself, darlin’,” Beau says, taking a sip of his wine.

I frown. “What do you want to know?”

He waves a hand airily. “Whatever you feel like sharing.”

I clench my napkin in my lap. Fuck. “I’m… erm… not very good at this sort of thing.” I’m also seriously out of practice, dammit.

Beau favors me with a quiet smile. “All right. Let’s play a little date version of Twenty Questions, then. I’ll start, shall I?”

Relief washes over me. Questions I can answer. Spontaneous divulgences are not really in my wheelhouse, and I honestly don’t even know what he wants me to talk about. I’m not actually a very interesting person these days. Up until a few weeks ago, I’d been holed up in my flat licking my wounds for the last few years. Sure, becoming a paranormal investigator—screw that Spirit Extraction Specialist bullshit from ExorSquad—is unusual, but probably not for someone like Beau. What the hell does a man like him see in me?

“Let’s start with an easy one,” Beau offers. “Any pets?”

I blink and relax a little in my chair. “A sassy cat named Poirot.”

Beau’s eyes widen. “After the Agatha Christie detective?”

I nod a bit sheepishly.

“I loved that old show with David Suchet as Poirot!” Beau gushes. “British mysteries are some of my favorites. Like I told you, Mama and I enjoy watching Midsomer Murders together. All those murders in the English countryside sure end up being mighty entertaining, I will say.”

“Yeah, I like a good mystery show too, although the police procedure is rubbish a lot of the time. I’m able to suspend my disbelief for a good story, but it’s a struggle for Liz.” We had many a debate on that subject.

Beau’s eyes sparkle. “See, we’ve found another thing in common. Now, satisfy my burning curiosity. Why is your cat called Poirot? Is it just appreciation for the character?”

That makes me chuckle. “Poirot’s a bit tubby and definitely a gourmet cat food connoisseur. He can be quite fussy about what I feed him, and makes it known when anything isn’t to his liking. He even has these whiskers that curl up and look like a mustache.” Needing to show him what I mean, I pull out my phone and bring up my photo album, which mainly contains pictures of Poirot.

“Oh my word, he does have a whisker mustache. That’s adorable.”

My inner cat-dad pride comes out. “He’s smart too. Like a lot of cats, he can also be rather aloof sometimes. But I like to think he could be a cat detective if he wanted to.”

Beau laughs an almost-giggle that I really want to hear again.

How can I make him do that more?