Chapter 27
Anxiety pooled in my stomach as I perused the menu.
The French menu.
The French menu I couldn’t decipher because I’d opted for Spanish in high school.
I recognized a few appetizers because the menu at least had minimal translations between the French, but escargot and French oysters didn’t make me feel very confident about the variety of options on this menu.
The Golden Osetra caviar started at over a hundred bucks for seven measly grams, and even though I’d always wanted to try caviar, I never expected a first date to pay, or deal with me getting sick if it was disgusting.
How delicious could fish eggs really be?
Maybe the monkfish with a celery root puree would be a better choice, not that I had any idea what that puree would taste like.
Maverick looked just as uncomfortable, stumbling through the wine menu before deciding on a nice bottle of red.
The server smiled and nodded, but it was blatantly obvious he’d already written us off as uneducated idiots who wouldn’t leave a decent tip, and his recommendation of the least expensive item on the menu reinforced that observation.
I rolled my eyes, chewing on the inside of my cheek and glaring at the entrees. My gaze faltered when it passed over the Spiced Duck Confit with lentils, foie gras, and Banyuls jus. I recognized three words of that dinner choice and could pronounce even less.
Why did the menu have to be a glaring advertisement for how much I didn’t know? Maybe Mina had the right idea, and traveling the world to experience new cultures was the way to go.
Nope, I thought, shaking my head and setting the menu down as the server returned and opened the bottle of wine.
Running away wouldn’t solve anything, and I couldn’t imagine leaving right now anyway.
Not with Dad, the court hearing, and whatever this was with Maverick.
I’d waded through enough bullshit in my life to have some idea about the motivations of others.
And that bullshit detector was silent as I glanced at him from across the table.
There were nervousness and trepidation, sure, but the overwhelming feeling he exuded was confidence.
He sipped the wine and nodded at the server, adjusting his tie as generous glasses of the maroon liquid were poured for us.
I followed his lead and drank deep, letting the tart flavors calm my frazzled nerves.
My confidence wavered for a moment as I watched him, hoping this date wasn’t his way of letting me down easy.
“I’ve heard great things about this restaurant. What made you decide to bring me here?” I asked, tracing my fingers over the raised lettering on the menu and pushing the unwelcome thoughts away.
“See these?” he said, pointing to the individual mini chandeliers that hung over each table.
I glanced up, taking in the details. The pendant and teardrop crystal beads glittered in the low light, casting shadows across the white linen tablecloth.
It was beautiful work. Each one dangled above the tables, varying in size and height depending on how big each seating area was.
I looked closer, amazed at the intricacy—the restaurant’s logo etched into the brass, and the interlocking chain-link cord that allowed the height to be adjusted—as his implication set in.
“Whoa. You designed these?”
“Not hardly,” he said, chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck.
“But TriVolt did. More specifically, Miller designed them. I just oversaw the installation and hoped the owner could squeeze in a last-minute reservation. That, and, you know, I was hoping to impress you. We didn’t exactly get off to the best start, did we? ”
I chuckled, thinking back to wanting to throttle him after we first met.
Not that I hadn’t noticed some of his other qualities—like the way his tattoos peeked from underneath his shirt and the way his voice took on a gritty, raw deepness when he spoke.
But once the man behind the attitude peeked through his facade, it had become next to impossible for my dormant libido not to awaken and take notice.
“Agreed. I’d like to think things have warmed since then.” I raised a brow and watched his hands still on the menu.
Slowly, he laid it down and met my eyes. Those twin blue orbs pierced mine like they had a direct line to my deepest insecurities, and I sucked in a breath, completely lost for words and desperately hoping I had not misread our situation.
“More than warmed, Summer.”
I swallowed, the remnants of the wine turning sour on my tongue.
Not that I didn’t want to have this conversation, it was more like I hadn’t expected it so soon.
Going from casual indifference to charged attraction was one thing, but jumping headfirst into something more seemed like a one-way ticket for things to end epically.
That was the sensible, optimistic thing to do, right? Take things slow. Get to know one another. Have more dates filled with getting-to-know-you conversations and awkward flirting.
“Hot, perhaps? You think so?” I said, irritated that my voice sounded so meek. Because that was not me. I was strong and loud and opinionated. A force of nature with fluff around her middle and a penchant for soft cheese and slippers.
But something I saw in Maverick’s gaze from across our small table with the pretty chandelier that he helped create had me giving in to the urge to let him lead and see what he had to say.
“Scorching, Summer. But something like this—someone like you—had never been on the board for me.”
Oh, this wasn’t about us moving fast or slow. This was about him letting me down without drama. I stared at my menu, not reading the words and pushing down the disappointment.
Not disappointment that whatever this was had a clear expiration date; more like disappointment that I allowed myself to think that one night of amazing sex and a few stolen moments could lead to more.
Stop. I thought, shaking my head slightly, as my brain continued to spiral from one unlikely outcome to another, confusing me even more since I was obviously clueless as to what I wanted.
Maybe Bev’s insistence that I knew his entire tragic backstory was her way of warning me to stay away. Or perhaps the dismay was with myself for being dick-matized by the first guy who paid me a bit of attention since Trey.
“Summer?”
There was still hope for me, right? I wasn’t doomed to be a spinster, sequestered to a one-room apartment with only plants for company?
The handsome doctor flashed before my mind’s eye. I guess if I caught his attention there was still hope. But my frown deepened as I thought about that situation, because I’d gotten the distinct vibe that he wasn’t used to hearing the word no.
Dad was way off base with that one. Men like him were all about the chase, and once the prize was caught, the interest diminished. That, and he reminded me too much of a jock I dated in college for me to ever take things further than seeing him at follow-up visits.
“Summer?”
I shook my head and looked at Maverick. His brows were furrowed, and the grip he had on the stem of his wineglass looked like he was about to snap it in half.
“Oh. Gosh. I was miles away, wasn’t I?” I said, smiling. “Sorry about that. What were you saying again, please?”
“Tell you in a sec. But first, you tell me something. What were you thinking about?” he prompted, closing the menu and pushing it to the edge of our table.
“This and that, I guess. Wondering what the difference is between South Carolina oysters and French oysters. Also, Dad’s heart doctor and plants. Nothing important, really.”
“Well, I think you answered my question, then,” he said through gritted teeth and a scowl that matched my own.
Furrowing my brows and tilting my head, I rested my hands on the table, giving him my undivided attention. “I’m sorry, Maverick. Please repeat what you said.”
I reached across the table and grasped his wrist, stilling his restless movement.
Regardless of how I felt, he didn’t deserve my mind wandering.
Just because my stupid thoughts had drifted from this being the beginning of something to my impending spinsterhood, didn’t mean it was his fault that he didn’t return my feelings.
“Right. So, it’s obviously not shared, but I said that even though this was never in the cards for me, I can’t get you out of my head, and if you’re up for it, I’d like to see where this goes. See more of you, I mean.”
My mouth opened, and I let go of his hand, snagging a piece of crusty bread from the middle of the table and putting it on my plate.
Maverick sighed and pushed the butter toward me, but I made no move to pick up my knife, too stunned to speak.
Whiplash from an out-of-control rollercoaster would be better than how fast my thoughts were racing.
“But forget all that. There’s no reason for us not to have a nice dinner. Even if I can’t read a word of this damn menu. As long as I don’t accidentally order something with mushrooms, I’ll be fine.”
“Not a fan of mushrooms?” I asked, still trying to process his declaration while holding back a giggle.
“Not even a little. Never been a fan of fungus.”
“That sounds like me with shrimp. I can’t even look at those little bottom feeders without feeling like I’m going to lose my lunch.”
“Well, aren’t we a pair?”
“We could be,” I said, biting my lip and staring at the baguette that I’d ripped into pieces. “I mean, I wouldn’t be opposed to that.”
“What? Really?”
I took a deep breath and let it out slowly, no longer allowing second-guessing and doubts to cloud my mood. “I know we’ve only been here for about ten minutes, but since you picked me up, I’ve gone from glee to panic to overindulged lust.”
“Lust?” he chuckled, leaning across the table and giving me a sly wink.
“Yes,” I snapped, as his gaze danced with mischief. “You know how good you look in that suit.”