“Would it be rubbing salt in the wound to ask how things are going with them?”
I reached for the wine list, which was scrawled on a yellow index card. No prices. “Same old shitshow,” I grumbled. “Do you like wine? I don’t think I’ve asked you that.”
She plucked the card out of my hand. “Only a few sips. Not enough to justify ordering a whole bottle.”
“Red or white?”
She waved this off, saying, “Neither. I’ll have a sip of whatever you get.”
I snatched the card back. “Either you tell me what you want or I’ll order every single bottle.”
“Why are you so ridiculous?”
“Because you won’t tell me what you want.” I slid my palm up her calf. “If anyone’s being ridiculous, it’s you.”
“That is a fanciful way of saying you’re not getting what you want.”
“Funny how my only objective here is making sure you get whatyouwant.” With a flippant shrug, I added, “Ordering all the wine this hole-in-the-wall has to offer is nothing. Five, six bottles? Please. If it made you happy, I’d buy an entire winery.”
“Okay, yes, speaking of your outrageous spending.” She clasped her hands under her chin and shot me a prim frown. “The underwear.”
She whisperedunderwearand I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from laughing. “Yes, Sunny? What about them?”
“You didn’t have to do that.”
“You’re right. I didn’t.” I leaned in, brushed my fingers over her forearm. “I wanted to.”
“So I could spend more time having sex with you and not doing laundry?”
That she didn’t lower her voice to say this ripped a full-throated laugh out of me. This girl. Goddamn. “That wasn’t even part of the mental calculus,” I admitted. “I just wanted to have detailed, specific knowledge of what was underneath those skirts of yours.”
She pursed her lips together, looked down at the table. “They’re very nice. Thank you.”
“Then I’m happy.” I swept my thumb over a bruise near her elbow. “What happened here?”
“Oh, it’s nothing. I was moving some tables and banged into something.”
“You are one accident after another, storm cloud,” I said. “I don’t know how you haven’t tripped over one of your dogs yet.”
“They’re trained to never let that happen.” She said this as if she’d clarified it to me a million times already. Maybe she had. I still wasn’t convinced. “Even if I did trip or lose my balance because of them, they know how to react so that I don’t get hurt. I used to explain that on the first day of school so everyone in my class would understand the dogs’ behaviors and responses, and the appropriate ways to interact with them.”
The server approached then with a carafe of water and a discussion of the day’s specials. Before we could get into any of that, I said, “We’d like one of each of your wines.”
“No, we don’t. Seriously, Beck, stop it.” She swatted my hand, adding, “The cabernet, please.”
I grinned at her. “Good choice.”
She glared at me. “Shut up.”
“Have you made any other decisions or should I come back in a few minutes?” the server asked.
Sunny ordered ravioli. I went with scallops. When the wine and a bread board arrived, she clinked her glass to mine, saying, “To first dates.”
“To many more,” I replied. “Can I ask about your business partners or are you going to break that glass over my head?”
“I wouldn’t do that. This is a nice glass,” she said, pointing to what must’ve been an olive jar in a previous life. “What do you want to know?”
“They aren’t all from around here, are they?” She shook her head. “How did you meet them?Wheredid you meet them?”
