“Yeah,” he responded with a nod.
“Good, I was hoping you could tell me about the menu and where to start. I feel so lost. There are so many options.”
I hadn’t opened the menu tonight because I knew it by heart. I knew every starter, salad, soup, steak, side, and drink on it. I’d tried almost everything.
“You have to go with the shrimp for your starter. It’s a given.”
“Then that’s where I’ll start. And, have a French Tart.”
I split the menu open and casually scrolled the papers bound in a leather case. It was to do nothing more than keep my eyes and hands busy. Nothing had changed since my last visit with Range five weeks prior–other than the hostess at the podium.
“So, the lovely Kimberly finally carved out some time in her day to entertain me.”
I shook my head as I closed the menu, giving Brandon my undivided attention.
“I’m no circus act. I don’t strive to entertain. I prefer chasing enjoyment.”
“Then you’re in luck. I’m going to make sure you enjoy our time together.”
“Good evening, ma’am. Sir. Can I get you two started with some water? Tap or house? We also have sparkling.”
“I’ll take house,” I answered the question of our waitress.
“And for you, sir?”
“I’ll take the same.”
“Alright, any starters? Champagne? Fou–”
“I’ll have a French Tart.”
“I’ll have tequila. Your finest reposado. Chilled. And, uh– two orders of your volcanic shrimp.”
“Anything else?”
“Nah. That’ll be it for now.”
The waitress turned to leave, gracing me with her gracious backside. Her brown skin and natural curls were already the closest things to perfection. Knowing she had a body to match her light spirit and fluffy hair forced my head up and then down.
She’s easy on the eyes, but I hope she’s hard on the men. They deserve it.
“She’s beautiful,” I said, barely above a whisper.
Still, Brandon heard me. He snapped his neck in my direction.
“Hm?”
I nodded toward the waitress as I reopened my menu.
“Our waitress. She’s beautiful.”
“Yeah. She is.”
Her beauty had led his eyes and head in the opposite direction. I didn’t blame him. My position gave me the upper hand. I didn’t have to maneuver in my seat to make sure my eyes weren’t deceiving me.
“I don’t get that often,” he sniggered.
“Get what?”
