Chapter 342
A small smile appeared on her lips. “Have you eaten yet?”
“Huh?” Denver looked startled before shaking his head. “Actually, I was just about to ask you the same thing…”
“Then let me treat you to dinner. Just wait here for a second…” Hadley stepped back inside to grab her purse. Once she returned, she locked the door behind her. “But don’t expect anything fancy. Even if it’s cheaper than what you used to, you’re not allowed to complain.”
“Would I ever? Do you really think I’m that kind of person?”
She already knew the answer—of course, he wouldn’t mind. If he did, she wouldn’t have even suggested it.
The neighborhood had an old-town charm, carrying an easygoing atmosphere. It wasn’t trendy, but it had everything a person could need.
Hadley led Denver to a small, cozy restaurant. It was the nicest place she had been to since returning. Given Denver’s background, suggesting anything cheaper would have felt a little awkward.
They were led to a nice table and placed their orders.
“I heard their pasta is incredible,” Hadley cupped a hand around her mouth and spoke in a hushed tone. “I’m planning to have the entire plate tonight, actually.”
She lifted her index finger to emphasize her point.
Then, with a playful sigh, she grumbled, “Normally, I have to be careful about my carb intake just to keep my shape…”
To keep in top form for her performances, she had been on a strict diet lately.
“Tonight, I’m indulging.”
There was a lighthearted childishness in the way she said it.
Denver chuckled. “Now I’m starving.”
He shrugged off his blazer and draped it over the back of his chair, leaving only his shirt beneath.
Hadley paused for a moment, and then smiled.
Denver was actually wearing the one she had made for him. She tilted her head, eyeing the shirt. “Huh? The shirt, huh?” Her eyes flicked over it before she asked, “How’s the fit?”
Denver lifted his arm slightly, flexing it as if to prove a point. “Fits like a glove.” He glanced at her with a small smirk. “You never even took my measurements, but somehow, you got it exactly right.”
Hadley gave a modest shrug. “A skill passed down from my grandmother.”
She smiled again, her expression proud but playful. “I wouldn’t say I’m perfect at it, but I can usually make a pretty good guess.”
Then, with a touch of hesitation, she admitted, “Though, to be fair, it’s just plain cotton instead of anything fancy.”
The fabric was cotton, a stark contrast to the luxurious fabrics Denver was used to—fine wool, silk blends, tailored perfection.
But Denver immediately shook his head. “What do you mean, just cotton?” He ran his fingers over the sleeve as if proving his point. “This is actually great! It’s soft, breathable—really comfortable.”