I blanched.
“Uh, yeah…”
He chuckled and winked. “Maybe next time.” He dropped the subject.
My posture relaxed as I let out a breath I had been holding.
Peter returned with our drinks and we ordered.
“So, your turn to talk awkwardly about your ex?” I grimaced.
“I’ve been dating mainly casually the last few years.” He shrugged. “I’ve had serious relationships before, but I’m also assuming I have a few years on you.” He raised a brow, asking my age.
“I’m twenty-two.”
He nodded. “Twenty-nine.”
Peter brought out bread and Grant asked for extra balsamic in the oil. He ripped off a piece of bread and used it to stir the mixture and then scraped it against the side of the dish and placed it in his mouth.
“So good.” He looked to the ceiling and slid some bread over to me. “Try it.”
I followed his lead. It was an interesting mixture of bitter and sweet. “Not bad, but I think it’s hard to beat warm bread and soft butter.” I shrugged. “So, what changed the dating routine in the last few years?” I spread some butter on my bread, as he dipped another piece in the vinegar and oil.
He finished his bite. “My dad died.”
I tipped my chin trying to connect the invisible dots. “And you needed to help your mom?”
He scoffed. “No, for the first time, I didn’t have to help my mom.”
I picked up another piece of bread and spread butter on it. “I’m not following.”
“Long story short, my dad was a jerk. I’m happy he is gone.” His lowered eyes flicked to mine. “This is probably not the best first date material.”
“Is it any better than inviting a stranger to your apartment?” I shook my head and rolled my eyes.
Grant raised his left shoulder. “Well, with my portion of Dad’s life insurance money and what I had saved, I bought the venue, The Brick House, and restored it.”
I thought about what that would cost. “So you’ve been too busy starting a business to date?” He nodded. “The few times I’ve been there it seems like you’ve done a wonderful job. I love the mix of warm wood tones, bricks, and industrial.” I licked the crumbs off my fingers.
“The few times you were there sneaking aroundand diving under tables, you mean.” He shook his head. “But thank you. It has had a lot of unforeseen challenges, but I’m still glad I took it on.” He traced the wood grain of the table with his right pointer finger. “And I’m pretty sure only part of it is because I want to prove my dad wrong.” He exhaled slowly and grabbed the back of his neck with his left hand. “Enough of that, now. What’s your favorite color?”
“Blue.”
Peter soon brought out our food, and I had him cover my cheese ravioli with parmesan.
“So tell me about The Bees Knees and your obsession with the old movies.” He smiled and reached his other hand out across the table, holding his palm up and fingers open, waiting to let me place my hand in his.
I stared at his hand—should I take it? I looked up to his face and was met with his kind eyes, a smile, and that blasted dimple.
Oh what the heck, why not? I put my hand in his.
Chapter Ten
I rolledover in my soft pink comforter and reached blindly for my phone. I had missed calls from Jane and Mom and several texts. Jane had called at 10 p.m., technically last night—but at the time I was still somehow with Grant.
I clicked on Jane’s messages from today.
Jane: Em, if you’re dead right now, I’m going to be so mad.
