He sucked in a deep breath. “Let me know if... I mean, I’m guessing you’re not short on funds, but let me know if you want me to pay for something. I don’t want to... fuck. I don’t know what to say.”
“Then don’t.” I turned my hand over and lifted his, then nibbled across his knuckles until he smiled at me.
“This is awkward.”
“No, it isn’t,” I said, pulling the car out into the street so we could get going.
“Oh, okay,” he murmured, sarcastic as ever, and I had to laugh.
The restaurant was on the west side of town, tucked in a tiny building at the end of Oak Street that looked like it was new about two hundred years ago. My heart sank as I turned the Lexus into the parking lot and took in the outside of the place, but I’d known it would be something offbeat before I decided to bring him here. There was a nice view of the lake at least, and we weren’t that far from Vert Island. For some reason being close to home made this date easier. I parked and shifted in my seat to study Flynn as I shut off the car.
He rubbed his hands over his knees and leaned forward to squint at the restaurant. “I’ve heard of this place.” He shot me a worried glance. “Lorn Hawk—”
“The guy who teaches Courtroom Procedure?”
“Yeah.” He winced. “Lorn told me this place was really high-end.”
“It is. Are you nervous?” I glanced at his hands, which stopped moving.
He straightened, still staring out the window. “Yesterday was my first real date in over twenty-five years, and it was with a guy I wasn’t interested in. Now I’m on another one with someone....” He hung his head, and I was relieved when a warm smile crossed his face, even though it vanished quickly. “It’s a lot.”
I grabbed his hand and held it tight, and he laced his fingers with mine, giving me a squeeze.
“I’m not convinced we should be doing this, but I don’t want to mess it up,” he murmured.
“Neither do I.” My voice seemed loud in the thoughtful quiet that had settled over us.
Flynn turned and gave me a small, sweet smile. My breath caught. I’d never seen him like this. How was it possible I’d seen his orgasm face but not his happy one?
“You ready to do this? They should have a table waiting.”
He hissed and glanced at the building, and I had to laugh. “Um... it looks rundown.”
Shrugging, I let his hand go. I popped open the door and shook my head to the tune of him laughing at me. “It’s supposed to be part of the experience, from what little I’ve heard. All the cash goes to the food and not the atmosphere.”
He grunted and got out. We closed our car doors together and the small clap of noise was so in sync it had me grinning again.
“They could’ve wasted a little of the money on the atmosphere,” he said, under his breath, and I chuckled as we walked together.
The exterior was brick, which wasn’t unusual in New Gothenburg, where a lot of buildings were old and built back when things were meant to stand the test of time, but unlike most places, these gray bricks didn’t look as if they’d been washed or seen paint since they were put up. Thick black shutters covered the windows and barely let a crack of light from inside out. Over the entrance, illuminated under a red spotlight, was the name Cardigan’s on a simple white sign. The solid metal door reminded me of something designed with fire safety in mind, and the knob didn’t do anything when I turned it and pushed, so I knocked.
“This should be amazing,” Flynn said, biting at the inside of his lip, and I’d been so worried about impressing him, but all I could do was laugh. The door opened and a pretty, thin man with a pointed face, big brown eyes, and a halo of springy curls stood aside, gesturing us in as if we’d interrupted him. He wore a white uniform with a black apron and was practically a beacon against the old building.
“Two for Daughtler?” he asked.
“Uh, yes,” I replied, feeling put on the spot.
“You’re late.” He pointed at a tall round table only a few steps inside the door, where a bottle of something purple that appeared to have flowers floating in it sat open and waiting, along with two thin glasses. The tall chairs that went with the place settings didn’t look very comfortable. Flynn gave me wide eyes as we followed the man over to our seats at a fast clip, and the server poured the drinks for us while we sat down. Inside the building was as sparse as the outside, but there were about fifteen tables, exactly like ours, full of people dressed for attention. Above each table a single brilliant pendant light hung, and I felt weirdly as if we were on a stage. Nothing was fancy, other than the drink and the glasses, but the walls in here had at least been painted white, and the bare cement floor was clean.
“No one’s talking,” Flynn whispered to me. “I feel like we’re in church.”
The server still stood at the side of our table and nodded, a smug smile curling his lips. “Excellent assessment. Food is God here at Cardigan’s, and we’re in a temple.” His nostrils flared, and I struggled not to laugh.
Flynn took a sip of the purple drink, coughed, and spit a flower back into the glass. I slapped a hand over my mouth. “What—” He wheezed and cleared his throat. “What is this?”
The server ignored him, his attention snagged by something over Flynn’s shoulder, and he went to another table as three men wearing all black brought out plates. The guy in white seemed to be directing the other servers in their job. A different man dropped off a plate of rolls dripping in butter at our table. The smell had my stomach growling with hunger.
I sipped my drink, and even though it was beautiful I almost gagged at the bitterness as it coated my tongue. The orange flavor was cloying and had me wincing. “Rotten OJ? This place was described to me as an ‘out-of-body experience.’” I set my glass quickly on the table, then bit into my roll to get the bad taste out of my mouth. At least the bread was good.
