“So?”
“So first dates are for getting to know each other.”
I start to suggest how I’d like toget to know himbut stop myself. I think the fucker is being genuine.Does he really want to get to know me?
This was not what I was expecting, although I’m not certain what my expectations were, exactly. I suppose I assumed this science experiment would be face deep—that is, until he was face deep between my legs. We’d have fun, create stories to yap about on the podcast, and exploit the workplace relationship loophole that we seemed to have found. I’m not sure what purpose getting to know each other serves in this six-week escapade.
Jackie chooses this moment to appear at the side of our table with a wide smile and bouncy red curls. “Welcome to Hess. I’m Jackie, and I’ll be your server this evening.” She fills two soft blue glasses with iced water. “Is this your first time with us?”
“I’ve been here a number of times,” Drake says smoothly. “But this is my girlfriend’s first visit.”
His declaration startles me, as does the swift wave of warmth that rolls through my insides. When men have called metheir girlfriendortheir womanin the past, it’s been icky—like they were trying to control me. It was a proverbial boot on my throat every time, and I instinctively resisted. This time, though, it’s lessboot on my throatand moreair rushing into my lungs. He doesn’t spit it out like ownership; he speaks it with pride.
Less like he’s chosen me and more like he’s lucky thatIchose to spend time withhim.
Huh.
“Oh, nice,” Jackie says, placing two new menus on the table. “If you need any recommendations, please let me know. I’m kind of an expert around here.”
“Okay. What are your favorite drinks?” Drake asks.
She smiles as if this question just made her day. “Well, we have a great prosecco. All our white wines are good, but I love our tempranillo. As far as cocktails, our lychee mule is very popular. You can never go wrong with the mojito or the sangria. But if you go with the sangria, just get the pitcher. Trust me on that.”
“Jackie, I love your passion about the drink menu.” I giggle.
She shrugs happily. “It’s a perk of the job to be able to genuinely recommend things to customers. You can’t go wrong, no matter what you choose. I say that with my whole heart.”
“So what do you think?” I ask Drake. “What sounds good to you?”
“I always get a Mexican lager they carry from a local brewery. Although, I did have the lychee mule once and I’d order that again if I wanted something different.”
I wrinkle my nose. “I’m not a beer girl, but I love sangria.”
“Got it,” Jackie says. “Glass or pitcher?”
“He’s driving,” I say, laughing.
Jackie laughs, too. “Great. I’ll work on that while you peruse our menu. Again, let me know if you need recommendations.”
“Thank you,” I say. Once she’s gone, I look at Drake. “She’s so nice.”
“I’ve never had bad service here. You know, the level of service is highly underrated. It’s one of the things that immediately comes to mind when you consider going back to a restaurant.”
“So true. My friends and I have two places in our rotation and a big part of that is because of the staff. For example, one of our favorite servers, Kim, just got a new puppy. How do I know that? Because when we walk through those doors, we feel like family. It’s great.”
“Tell me about your friends. What do they do?”
“Audrey is my doctor friend.”
Drake chuckles. “The philosophy doctor with a specialty in tetanus?”
“That would be the one.” I grin. “Astrid works for Renn Brewer. He owns the Tennessee Royals.”
“No shit.”
My brows pull together, not understanding why that bit of information received that response. “No shit.”
“My buddy, Jory, plays for the Royals.”
