I guess I identify as a cat, because anti-social is a huge part of my personality too.
Audrey doesn’t reply,but pink covers her cheeks as she bites her lip. I’m taking it as a good sign, but I don’t want Audrey to feel like I’m pressuring her. I can be patient.
Grabbing both cats off the enclosure, I secure them against my chest before placing one hand on Audrey’s back, and lightly push her toward the doorway. “I’m going to close the door so the pigs can get acclimated without Maverick or Goose bothering them.”
“Probably wise,” Audrey says quietly, allowing me to guide her out of the room. Flash follows, her eyes zeroed in on Goose in my arms, occasionally growling at my angry cat. I toss Goose onto the stairs right as the oven timer goes off. “Did you cook?”
“No, I put our dinner in there to stay warm.”
“What are we having?” Audrey asks as she follows me into the kitchen.
“I had the event caterers send us two of everything they offer so we can finalize the menu. So it’s pretty much a smorgasbord.”
“Wait!” she shouts, and I turn to find a horrified expression on her face. “They have seafood on their menu! You can’t have anything!”
“I can’t believe you remembered that,” I murmur.
She huffs. “Of course I remember! I could have poisoned you with clam chowder!”
I chuckle. “Poison is a little bit of a stretch, and usually I ask what something is before I put it in my mouth. The caterers know. They assured me everything was prepared separately from any seafood dishes, and also said we can have a gluten-free area for the event. Their head chef has a child with celiac, and he takes food preparation very seriously.”
“Oh, that’s good. We should include that option on the RSVPs so we know how much to request.”
Putting oven mitts on my hands, I carefully remove the large aluminum pan, placing it on the island. “Would you prefer to plate things and eat in the dining room, or —”
Audrey pulls the foil off the top of the pan, immediately grabbing a roasted potato and popping it into her mouth. “We can eat here. Why dirty up plates?”
This woman is perfect. “Sounds good to me. Pull up a stool.”
And this is how I have my first meal with my girlfriend in my home, hovering over a disposable pan full of twenty different foods.
“So,” I say, chewing on the top of my pen, “I have beef tenderloin, chicken Provençal, and mushroom risotto. Sides are roasted potatoes, a vegetable mix, and a side salad with avinaigrette dressing. Servers will have trays of hors d’oeuvres including a potato pastry puff, bacon wrapped beef, chicken bruschetta, and hummus-filled phyllo cups. Should we have more sides at dinner?”
“No,” Audrey answers confidently. “I’ve been to enough of these events. I can guarantee most people will barely eat anyway. As long as we have an open bar, they won’t complain.”
“I was thinking a cash bar,” I admit. “We’ve made a lot of money that way in the past.”
“Rich drunks spend more money on things, especially when the alcohol is free. Why do you think casinos in Vegas offer free drinks to gamblers?”
Well, I feel stupid. “That makes a lot of sense, and I feel like an idiot. No one on the board has argued with me over it.”
“You’re the owner. You’re intimidating. While it’s possible the board doesn’t know about casinos, I know I’d be intimidated by you if I had to disagree with something like that.”
“Oh yeah?” I murmur, pulling her stool closer to mine so I can wrap my arms around her. I glance quickly at Flash, zonked out on the new dog bed I purchased today, her wheelchair perched next to her. Evidently, chasing after a curious cat is exhausting. “Am I intimidating now?”
She giggles, the sound melodious and phenomenal. “Not especially, no. Do youwantme to be intimidated by you?”
“No. I like you in my space. I don’t want to scare you away.”
“It’s not like I can get out of here without your permission,” she jokes. “I’m not scaling the fence, and frankly, your driveway is too long. If I’m running, I can assure you that something is chasing me.”
“What if I’m the one chasing you?” I ask softly, leaning forward to suckle on the spot where her neck meets her shoulder.
Her quick intake of breath, followed by the tiniest of whimpers, is music to my ears. “I’ve never been chased before. Literally or metaphorically.”
“Metaphorically?”
“Yeah. Like when a man puts in the effort to win a woman’s heart,” she says breathlessly as I nibble lightly on her collarbone. Her words make my head whip up to stare at her incredulously.
