Walk a Mile

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April tried to hide her excitement as she walked downstairs with Casey. She was impressed with how nice he looked in his suit, his hair tied back and shoes polished; he appeared to be very refined.

Opening the apartment door to see him like that had put to rest April's doubts about the elegant night out that he'd promised her. When he'd told her a week earlier that he'd gotten reservations at Le Bernadin, one of the most exclusive restaurants in the city, April had at first thought it was a joke. Casey had been completely serious when he had explained that he wanted to prove he could give her more than a beer and pretzel night out.

Taking him at his word, April had dressed accordingly and was feeling very smug about Casey's reaction when she'd greeted him at the door. April had pulled her hair back into a Dutch braid and she wore an ankle length red dress, so tight it hugged her curves in all of the right places. The four inch heels she wore lifted her close to eye level with Casey.

It had taken Casey a couple of minutes to find his voice, which was intensely gratifying. So far, Casey was behaving like a perfect gentleman, even opening the outer door for her.

The first discordant note of the evening was the sight of his motorcycle sitting in the alley next to her shop.

Stopping to stare at it, April said, "I thought you'd borrow the guy's van. I'm not dressed to ride your motorcycle, Casey."

"Wow, sorry babe," Casey said contritely. "I guess I didn't think about that. Here, your helmet will keep the wind from messing up your hair."

Accepting the head protection from him, April thought, "And what will keep the helmet from messing it up?" Out loud, she said, "I can't hike my dress up to my waist to get on your bike, either."

Casey contemplated her dress and shoes for a moment before saying, "How about you sit sideways? Ya' can hang on ta me with one arm and hold your shoes in the other. I'll keep it under forty."

April rolled her eyes. "Or we could go around the corner and hail a cab."

"Nah," Casey said, climbing onto his bike. "Why spend the money on one of those when we can spend it at the restaurant?"

Shaking her head, April twisted around and hopped onto the bike, bending over to remove her shoes. She'd barely gotten a solid hold on Casey's waist when he took off.

After cursing under her breath for a few blocks, April leaned forward and told Casey, "Can you park a little ways away from the restaurant? I'd really like to have a chance to put myself back together where people can't see me."

"Sure babe," Casey agreed. "I don't think there's any parking in that section of 51st this time of night anyway. We can hoof it for a couple of blocks."

A couple of blocks turned out to be five. April had removed the helmet carefully and used one of the mirrors on the motorcycle to smooth her hair into place, but by the time they reached Le Bernadin, she felt totally disheveled. Not to mention the fact that her feet hurt from walking in such high heels.

There was a small line outside the restaurant and Casey left April on the sidewalk while he pushed his way through to the Maître de. It was a few minutes before he returned and April took that opportunity to pull a small compact from her clutch and tidy her face and hair once more.

When Casey reappeared, he was carrying two champagne flutes. Handing one to her, he said, "The guy inside said it'll be a couple of minutes before our table is ready."

"Casey, champagne?" April crooned happily, taking a sip from the glass. "Thank you, this is delicious."

"Don't thank me," Casey said, gulping half the glass in one swallow. "This was complimentary 'cause we're having ta wait ta be seated."

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