Chapter Twelve
Elouan sat at a table by the window of the Italian restaurant he’d recommended as a meeting place.
Nothing too fancy, but a place Leon suggested for a date night.
Elouan still needed to tell the man about Curtis’s resentment, but hadn’t found the right time, especially with Leon taking a week off from work.
Although a few pumpkins flanked the hostess station, the restaurant appeared relatively Halloween-free.
Elouan had exchanged his normal T-shirt, faded jeans, and work boots for a tight-fitting button-down, nicer jeans, and a pair of western boots he’d bought on a whim and hadn’t worn yet.
He’d even dabbed on a little cologne. Dragons preferred natural scents.
One could gather so much information from a scent.
However, Curtis had long ago convinced him to invest in an upscale cologne for dates.
Elouan would have to fight the urge to blurt out the news about the house. A flash of color caught his eye. He turned toward the window, where Jules’s infectious grin and enthusiastic waving made him forget everything else. He couldn’t help smiling.
Jules darted away from the window, entering the door a moment later. He waved off the host, heading straight for Elouan’s table.
Elouan rose. What should he do? A kiss? A hug?
Jules's hug appeared platonic rather than romantic. A buddy move, not an exchange between lovers.
Lover. Elouan had a lover. Not simply a date or a one-night stand, but a lover. Someone he wanted to see again and again. Might never want to stop seeing.
He helped Jules out of his jacket, then returned to his seat, Jules taking the seat opposite at the booth. “I’m pleasantly surprised to see you. I was starting to think I’d dreamed you.” Oh shit. Couldn’t he have led with something else?
“I’m sorry. Aunt Moira and Uncle Ray lost family and wanted me close.”
“No kin of yours?”
“No. She and Uncle Rad…Ray aren’t blood kin, but they raised me. I didn’t know their family. I wish I had.”
What had Jules almost said? Rad what? “I’m sorry for their loss, but glad you got to come.
” Gladder than Elouan wanted to admit. That Jules still lived with them spoke volumes, when most men of his experience left home at the first opportunity.
Then again, finances would’ve been easier for Leon if Curtis had lived at home while attending college. Jules struck Elouan as practical.
“What’s good here?” Jules sniffed the air in a very dragon-like manner.
Was Elouan projecting his desire for Jules to be a dragon? Not fair. He needed to put those thoughts out of his head and enjoy the man with him.
“What do you like?” Elouan perused the menu, gaze falling on one of his favorites.
“I’m not sure. I haven’t had much Italian food, except for pizza and Aunt Moira's lasagna.”
Elouan feigned shock, eyes and mouth wide, and hand splayed over his chest. “You poor dear boy. You’re missing out. Do you have any food allergies?”
“Not that I know of.”
“Do you trust me?” Elouan studied Jules intently.
Jules never hesitated before answering, “Yes.”
Why did one word thrill Elouan so? Or maybe the trust made him feel all warm inside. He asked, “Do you like wine?”
A wrinkle appeared between Jules’s brows. “I don’t know.”
“You’ve never had beer, wine, liquor?” How had this man lived so long without wine, ale, beer….
Jules shook his head, making his blond curls bounce. “Never.”
“If you want to try it, fine, but you don’t have to,” Elouan assured him, though he’d hoped to split a bottle.
“Can I try a sip?”
“Sure.”
The server approached, placing two glasses of water on the table.
His eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled.
“Good evening. What can I get you gentlemen to drink?” Unlike at pricier restaurants where the staff dressed in suits, this man wore a white button-down shirt with khaki slacks, appearing neat without being stuffy.
Elouan wasn’t a big fan of stuffy. “A bottle of Chianti, please. And I’ll have the beef lasagna.” He folded the menu. “For both of us.” Best to stick close to what Jules was used to. They could try other dishes later. And he hoped there’d be a later. A lot of laters.
The server won points by raising an eyebrow at Jules, who nodded vigorously.
No letting one date plow over the other, making all the decisions.
Good. Elouan didn’t enjoy being the one to grin and nod while his overbearing date made all the decisions.
He’d even walked out on a doctor once for such rude behavior.
The server returned Jules’s nod, adding a gentle smile. “Very good, sir. We have an excellent Chianti.”
A couple of Elouan’s dates had taken him to high-end restaurants with different servers for wine, food, dessert, etcetera.
He’d always felt uncomfortable in such environments, like those men tried to force him into a mold he didn’t fit into, which proved prophetic by how they treated him later—as arm candy and fun in bed.
They’d been demanding, snarling Don’t you have anything better to wear?
And long hair at your age? They’d all turned out to be selfish lovers.
Speaking of being selfish…. “How was your week?” Elouan asked, not merely making polite conversation, but truly eager to know, especially since he’d worried about not seeing Jules around.
“Pretty good. I aced the test I’d been worried about and tried to be there for Moira and Ray.
Moira’s taken the news of her relatives’ deaths hard, but she told me to stop hovering and get out of the house tonight.
How about you?” Despite his light tone, the wrinkle between Jules’s brows spoke of how much he cared about his foster aunt and uncle.
Elouan’s week was a lot better with Jules sitting close. Strange that Jules didn’t mention who had died. Close kin, or a distant relative but still held dear? “Same ole. Got to watch a cute college student having lunch once. That always makes my day.”
“Well, I got to watch a hot construction worker traipse across steel girders like he was taking a casual stroll across a floor. Maybe he's part mountain goat.”
Really? Had Elouan been so careless as to let others see something they shouldn’t have?
“Elouan? Is something wrong? You just got a strange look on your face.”
“What? Oh, no. I’m fine. Looks are deceiving from down here. We have all kinds of safety measures in place. I was in no danger of falling, I can assure you.”
Jules winked. “What makes you think I was talking about you?”
Oh, Elouan loved this teasing side of Jules. “Well, I hope it’s me, because Leon is married to a cop and Earl is barely house-trained.”
“It’s you,” Jules conceded, a lovely blush staining his cheeks.
The server approached with two wine glasses and the Chianti.
He deposited the glasses on the table and filled both, leaving the bottle.
Elouan loved beer, but he could put in extra effort when he tried.
He’d heard admonishments about how princes should drink wine, not ale.
Good thing he wasn’t a prince in this realm.
His and Curtis’s refrigerator had a three six-pack minimum.
After the server left, Elouan took a sip of his wine and paused to observe Jules.
Jules raised the glass, took a big sniff, then took the tiniest sip. His lopsided smile hiked his lip up on one side. “That’s good!” He took a bigger sip.
“Go slowly,” Elouan cautioned, remembering less-than-stellar drinking binges.
“The first wine I ever drank went directly to my head.” Dragon metabolism meant he’d only managed to get rip-roaring drunk on one occasion, shortly after arriving in this world, during a period of mourning, but Jules didn’t have such a dragon-based advantage.
The server arrived, opened a small stand, and placed a loaded tray on top. He transferred a bowl of salad and two smaller bowls to the table, then waited until Jules and Elouan served themselves to ask, “Cheese?”
“Please.” Elouan sat back, giving the man room to work.
Jules followed Elouan’s example.
The server grated cheese onto each of their salads, deposited a bowl of breadsticks, then retrieved his tray and the stand. “May I get you anything else?”
Elouan glanced at Jules, who was staring at his salad with more than a little interest. Elouan remembered himself at that age, always hungry.
Of course, no one’s appetite beat a juvenile dragon’s.
Elders often suggested leaving juveniles in the forest to fend for themselves.
He hoped they jested. “I believe that will be all for now. Thank you.”
The server returned the way he’d come, leaving Elouan and Jules alone once more. They each took a bite of salad. Jules moaned. “Oh, this is so good.” He moaned again.
How much more moaning could Elouan take before he discarded all noble intentions to show Jules a good time and simply dragged the man back to the apartment?
No. He’d give Jules a proper date, then see where the night went. Soon he’d have his own place to take Jules to.
Elouan discreetly pushed all the tiny, round tomatoes to the side before really getting busy with the other veggies.
Humans ate more green stuff than dragons, who would likely subsist off nothing but meat if not for dragon parents holding a wooden spoon, ready to rap some knuckles if their young didn’t eat what they put on a plate for them.
Teron filled that role in the last few years of Elouan’s time in Adrakus. Jules ate everything in the bowl without prompting. Either he’d been taught to eat whatever Moira served, or he wasn’t picky.
They’d just finished their salads when the server returned, duplicating his earlier tray and stand routine, this time placing a steaming plate before them both.
What a wonderful scent: tomato sauce, beef, spices, cheese. Elouan’s stomach rumbled.
“Can I get you anything else?” the server asked.
Plenty of wine and plenty of bread remained. Elouan looked to Jules for confirmation. Jules shook his head. “No, I think we’re fine, thanks.”
“Very good, sirs. Enjoy your meal.”