Chapter 22
Melody
By the time they sat down at their table to enjoy the fruits of their culinary labor, Melody was on cloud nine. She could barely believe what a unique and thoughtful evening Ben had planned for them.
“Would you like some wine to go along with your dinner?” Amy asked after depositing their meals in front of them.
“Melody?” Ben inquired.
“I could go for a glass,” she answered, “but probably no more than one. I like wine, but I’m not a big drinker.”
“How about two glasses then,” Ben told Amy before returning his gaze to hers. “I try to keep my alcohol intake low during the season. I’m not a rookie anymore, you know.” That heart-stopping twinkle was back in his eyes.
She would bet good money his eyes twinkled because he knew darn well what fantastic shape he was in.
She doubted there was a rookie alive who could make washboard abs, bulging biceps, and gorgeous glutes look so good.
Not that she planned to say any of that out loud.
She didn’t know him well enough to risk being so bold.
“How about two glasses of Madiran?” Amy suggested. “Duck confit is usually best paired with big, powerful, rustic reds.”
Ben cocked a questioning brow her way.
“Sure. That sounds good,” she affirmed. She couldn’t recall whether she’d ever tried Madiran, but she liked red wine and had learned over the years that the waitstaff in boutique restaurants usually had a solid pulse on what was good, as well as what paired well with the items on their menu, which gave her confidence in the strength of the recommendation.
“Then two Madirans it is. Thank you, Amy.”
Melody couldn’t help but appreciate the polite way Ben referred to their server by name. Having worked as a server throughout college, she valued these little niceties that most patrons overlooked.
“I don’t think you’ll be disappointed,” Amy reassured. “I’ll be right back with your wine.”
“This smells fabulous,” Ben raved as Amy stepped away. He leaned over his plate and moved his cupped hand to better direct the aroma his way. “What do you say we dig into this while it’s still hot?”
“Let’s do it,” Melody agreed. She wasted no time spreading her cloth napkin over her lap and picking up her cutlery.
She moaned audibly when the first bite of duck confit hit her taste buds.
She closed her eyes as she chewed, all the better to savor the flavor.
She wondered whether she would have been able to pick out the subtle hint of juniper berries and bay leaf if she hadn’t had a hand in making it herself.
Maybe. She was certain she wouldn’t have been able to pick out the prized peppercorns.
“This is delicious,” Ben praised, stealing the words from her lips. “I wonder whether I would be able to replicate the melt-in-your-mouth meat and crispy, golden skin if I tried to make this unsupervised.”
“I was thinking along similar lines,” she shared, “only I was wondering how much luck I would have had trying to replicate the dish based on taste alone.”
Ben quirked his lips thoughtfully as he surveyed his food.
She felt hypnotized by the way his strong hands gripped the cutlery and cut off a generous morsel.
Her eyes followed the hand that lifted his fork up to his mouth.
She didn’t think Ben was trying to do anything more than eat, but the way his lips closed around his forkful and pulled it into his mouth was positively erotic.
“How are your first bites so far?” Amy asked as she reached for their wine glasses and poured a generous serving into each from the bottle of wine she’d brought to their table.
Worthy of a scene out of the steamiest romance novel, Melody thought silently. Aloud, she raved, “Phenomenal. Chef Henri is a true master and a great teacher.”
“I’ll be sure to pass along your praise. I know he’ll be thrilled to hear it.”
“Thank you,” she said as Ben lifted his glass in silent thanks for the wine.
Amy gave a subtle nod, then surveyed them for a brief moment before opening her mouth to speak. “You know,” Amy said, tilting her head. “I really hope things work out for you two. You seem like a super sweet couple.”
Melody and Ben shared a warm look.
“If, for whatever reason, they don’t, though,” Amy added, looking at Ben, “and if you’re into older women, I would consider lifting my dating ban for you.”
Amy winked at Melody before sauntering back into the kitchen.
Ben’s mouth dropped open comically. Melody had to lift her napkin to her lips to stifle her laughter.
“Well,” Ben said, rubbing an embarrassed hand over the planes of his face, “I certainly didn’t expect that.”
“Me, either,” Melody said, allowing her laughter to trickle out.
A sudden knot of tension twisted her stomach.
She was pretty sure Amy had been joking, but she wasn’t certain.
Good heavens. Was this what dating Ben would be like?
Having a front row seat to other women throwing themselves at him, even when his attention was clearly engaged elsewhere? She sure hoped not.
Melody shook off the thought, determined to enjoy her evening. There was no use manufacturing problems where none existed.
Conversation flowed as they dug into their meals. Melody was reassured by how easy it felt to be in each other’s company. Any silences felt comfortable without the need to fill them.
Despite a delicious and well-portioned meal, her eyes lit up with eagerness when their dinner plates were cleared away and replaced by a French-style molten lava cake.
She leaned forward in her seat as she took in the details.
The fresh berries. The stylized dots of whipped cream.
The tiny snips of green herb that she knew to be chocolate mint.
It smelled delectable and was beautifully plated, appealing to all her senses.
“Are you ready for the moment of truth?” Ben asked as he held his dessert fork above the plate.
“I’m ready,” she replied earnestly. She picked up her own fork and held it a fraction of an inch above the cake.
“On the count of three then. One, two, three,” Ben counted, “go!”
Just as it was meant to, once they cut through the exterior layer of the cake, an irresistible flow of warm dark chocolate poured out of the middle.
“Succès!” she cheered.
Ben’s quiet laugh was warm and appreciative.
Pleasure rushed through her as she put a small bite of perfectly baked cake and warm chocolate into her mouth. Once again, her eyes fluttered closed to better taste the nuances of flavor.
“What do you think?” Ben asked in a voice that seemed all the more potent with her eyes closed. His rich baritone washed through her as dark chocolate goodness exploded on her tongue.
“It’s exquisite,” she praised. The cake, definitely, but also the whole experience Ben had curated for them.
Melody opened her eyes to look at him. “The only problem with dishes like this,” she bemoaned, “is I’m now going to be tempted to go home and try making a healthier version with different types of chocolate to see which variation I like best. It usually takes me a few attempts to land on something I love, so I’m going to be drowning in molten lava cake. ”
“It’s a tough life you lead,” Ben teased with a chuckle.
“It really is.” She smiled begrudgingly. “The only actual challenge is that I’m a little caffeine sensitive. I can’t have too much dark chocolate late in the day or I won’t be able to sleep.”
“So, you’ll be left with loads of molten lava cake that you’ll only be able to eat during the morning hours?” Ben questioned.
“More or less,” she smiled.
“I’m sure I could help you with the breakfast cake,” Ben offered. “It sounds like a great way to start the day.”
The husky tenor of his voice moved through her, causing an involuntary shiver.
Was she imagining it, or did Ben offering to enjoy chocolate breakfast cake together mean he was anticipating waking up at her house, making it a simple matter to indulge in said cake?
She didn’t know this side of him well enough to know for sure.
“It definitely sounds like I’ll have enough to share in the not-too-distant future,” she flirted evasively.
“It’s a date,” Ben pronounced with a smile that melted her insides in a manner reminiscent of the warm, gooey center of the cake.