Chapter Twelve
Tabitha
”You aren”t wanting any small talk before we leave?” Spencer asks. ”Most woman want to invite me in so they can finish doing their hair or makeup while I stand there awkwardly trying to converse with them. It”s bloody hard to talk to someone when she has a comb clenched between her teeth while she”s trying to gather her hair up in some silly style.”
”Forget about small talk. Save that for in the car and the restaurant.” I lean sideways to grab my little purse off the table beside the door. I always carry a clutch when I go out on a date. ”Let”s get moving, Spencer.”
He chuckles. ”No woman has ever been this enthusiastic about a date with me.”
”Those other women must have been morons.” I shut the door and kiss his cheek. ”You”re a real catch, Spencer.”
”You can call me Spence if you like. I told you that on the day we met.”
My grin relaxes into a gentler smile. ”We didn”t know each other then. Now I”d love to use your nickname.”
”But you still don”t like your own nickname.”
”Actually, the main reason I don”t go by Tabby has very little to do with the fact tabbies are a type of cat.” I curl my arm around his bicep, loving the firmness of his muscles. ”Maybe I”ll explain the real reason to you tonight.”
”I”ll be waiting with bated breath.”
”You can breathe normally. A date with me isn”t that thrilling.”
He slides an arm around my waist, tugging me close to his side. ”Au contraire, Tabitha. Taking you out on a date is the most thrilling experience of my life.”
I can”t resist laughing. ”Save your sweet talking for the restaurant. I wouldn”t want you to run out of ideas before we even get there.”
Fifteen minutes later, we”ve been seated in a nice restaurant.
It”s a new bistro that just opened up a few months ago, and it”s very nice, though not so upscale that it”s full of snobby people who would turn their noses up at our dress casual attire. The bistro is gorgeous but accessible to average people like us. We decide to start with French onion soup, followed by the house salad that has goat cheese sprinkled over it. Then we discuss what to order for the main portion of our meal.
”Would you like to try the steak tartare? It comes with quail eggs, capers, and bagel crisps.”
”Uh, no thanks. I don”t eat raw food.”
”But you are the adventurous sort.”
”Even I have my limits. Raw meat is one of them.” I browse the menu again and make my selection. ”Ooh, I”d love to start with the spicy shrimp scampi. It”s doused in sriracha sauce.”
”I”ll start with the mussels. Then we can share.”
”What a fabulous idea.” Technically what we ordered are appetizers, though they look good enough to be entrees. But Spence and I agreed to order actual entrees too. I might not be able to fit in the car after this meal. ”Mm, I must have the cedar-planked salmon ni?oise.”
”I”ll try the duck pilaf.”
Spencer skims over the menu again. ”What about dessert? The salted caramel bundt cake looks delicious.”
”You order that, and I”ll choose the maple crème br?lée.”
By the time the waiter returns to take our order, the poor guy has enough written on his notepad to fill the whole page. He doesn”t complain, of course. The waiter even compliments our food choices and calls us ”the most innovative diners I”ve ever met.”
That is definitely the strangest compliment I”ve ever heard. But I like it.
All through our dinner, we chat about whatever comes to mind. At first, Spencer does most of the talking as he tells me even more about his family. His sister Bindy has three children, but his brother Kendall has never been married or even dated much despite being forty-three. Bindy sounds like lots of fun. Both she and her husband have strange occupations. Jonah works as a vibration consultant. Apparently, a person can earn a living by telling engineers and architects how to minimize noise and vibration levels in buildings. Who knew?
According to Spencer, Bindy makes a living by running an online business, selling knitted items made from unusual fibers.
”What qualifies as an unusual fiber?” I ask Spencer. ”I don”t know much about knitting.”
”Neither do I. But I”ve learned about it from Bindy.” He shoves a large bite of spicy shrimp into his mouth and moans with pleasure while he consumes it. ”This is bloody fantastic.”
”I thought it was excellent too. But I”m dying to hear more about Bindy”s unusual fibers.”
”She used to buy only sheep”s wool. But then she found out she could purchase more exotic fibers through various websites around the world. She now uses fibers from yaks, bison, camels, guanacos, and possums.”
A tiny laugh hiccups out of me. ”Possums? I can”t imagine wearing a sweater made from that. I mean, those poor little critters are destined to become roadkill.”
”But they do make excellent yarn.”
”What is a guanaco?”
”I haven”t a clue. It”s probably some sort of camel-esque creature.” Since we”ve just finished our meal, he spears a chunk of bundt cake and offers it to me. ”Try this. It looks delicious, but I”ll let the lady have first taste.”
”Dessert chivalry. That”s a new one for me.”
I open my mouth, and he slides the bit of cake onto my tongue. I chew slowly so I can relish the myriad flavors within the simple-looking confection. It”s a true gourmet dessert. I remember what the menu said about this cake, and suddenly, I find I can identify every last element. Snickerdoodle. Salted caramel. Chantilly cream. Sugar glass. Sea salt. But when I tell Spencer about my culinary orgasm, he shakes his head.
”It isn”t simply sea salt, love. You read the menu. This cake has Maldon sea salt.”
”Are you sure it wasn”t moldy sea salt?”
”You would enjoy eating mold?” He wags a finger at me, clucking his tongue. ”Careful what you say, Tabitha. This artisanal sea salt was harvested in the village of Maldon in England.”
I let him feed me another bite of cake. ”Mm, yummy. So, this is British cake. Did you know that when you ordered it?”
”Yes, of course I did.” He shoves a huge bite of cake into his mouth and devours it. Crumbs get stuck to his lips and dribble onto the table. He slides his tongue out all the way and laps up the crumbs slowly, sensually, until he”s swept his lips clean. ”That was wonderful. But I”d much rather taste you.”
”We haven”t tried the crème br?lée yet.”
”And you won”t taste it until you answer a few questions.” He grabs the cup of crème br?lée and pulls it over to his side of the table, out of my reach. ”I have questions, Tabitha, and I want to hear the answers from you.”
”An inquisition during dessert? I won”t crack, not even if you put me on the rack.”
He slants toward me, laying his hand over mine on the table. ”This won”t be any sort of inquisition. We agreed we want to get to know each other better. I”ve told you about my family, but I know almost nothing about yours. You warned me you hadn”t shared everything.”
”Yeah, I”ve been avoiding that.”
Spencer folds his arms on the tabletop, aiming a sly look at me. ”Are you on the run from the mafia? If so, I could help you stow away on an airline flight, then you could hide out in the wine cellar at Sommerleigh House. The authorities would never find you there.”
I pat his hand. ”That won”t be necessary, but it”s nice to know you”d help me evade the law if I ever did become a fugitive from the mafia.”
”Anything for you, Tabitha.”
Oh, God, he”s just so unbelievably sweet and understanding. Our silly conversation only made me feel like more of a heel for not being upfront with him about my family. I”ve never met his relatives, but I”ve learned all about them, almost as if I”ve met them. So, yeah, it”s time to bite that bullet and hope it doesn”t explode in my mouth.
I sit up straighter in my chair, smooth my napkin over my lap, and just do it. ”My family is rather...unconventional.”
”So is mine. Kendall was a stripper, after all.”
”You don”t understand. My parents grew up in a hippie commune, and I spent most of my childhood going to various protests. Save the whales, save the trees, save the endangered San Bruno elfin butterfly. I”m all for sparing the lives of any type of animal---well, except for pythons which creep me out---but I would”ve preferred to go to a rock concert with my friends. Now I”m too old for that.”
”You”re thirty-six years old. That isn”t ancient.”
”I know that. And I love my family. They instilled in me the free-spirited lifestyle that I still enjoy, though not to the degree my family does.”
Spencer studies me for a moment. ”How often do you visit your family?”
”As often as I can. Like I told you, I”m not embarrassed by the way they live. I just grew out of most of it. My parents are good people. They might not be hippies living in a commune anymore, but they still prefer to maintain an unconventional way of life.”
He keeps on studying me, as if I”m a strange new variety of jellyfish. ”You haven”t wanted to tell me about your family until tonight. If you worry I won”t approve of their lifestyle, you should have realized by now that I would never criticize you or your family.”
I poke at the crème br?lée as an excuse not to look him in the eye. Why am I acting like I”m ashamed of how my parents live? It”s not that bizarre. Suck it up, woman, and tell him. ”My parents live just outside the city limits of Asheville---in their own little tiny-house village.”
”A tiny village doesn”t sound strange. What”s the name of the small town?”
”No, you don”t understand. I phrased it wrong.” I straighten and gaze directly into his eyes. ”My parents live in a tiny house. So does my sister. The one I used to live in is still there too. When I say ”tiny house,” that”s the most accurate description. Haven”t you ever heard of the tiny-house movement?”
”No, I can”t say I have.”
”My parents and my sister live in houses that measure about three hundred square feet apiece.”
Spencer stops blinking. ”Oh. That is tiny.”
Time to test his mettle. ”Would you like to see their houses sometime?”