Since I hadn’t been paying enough attention to the menu, I looked down and picked the first thing that met my eyes. “I’ll have the swordfish.”
She scribbled and turned to Tate. “And you?”
He closed his menu. “And I’ll have the prime rib, please.”
“Coming right up.” She collected our menus and left.
Tate took a sip of his beer then slammed the glass down on the table. “The swordfish…fitting.”
I tilted my head. “Why is that?”
“Because it’s the big fish that eats everything and spits it out.”
I was about to say, “I don’t spit,” but my instincts told me that was taking it too far. I needed a different strategy, since my smart mouth didn’t seem to be getting me where I wanted to go. Perhaps I needed a demure approach.
Once the food arrived, Tate and I had a rather nice meal together, and we even managed to stop busting each other’s balls long enough to eat.
I licked my lips as I finished the last bit of fish. “That was very good.”
His eyes moved from my mouth to my chest and back. “Best meal I’ve had so far.”
“You haven’t eaten here before tonight?” I asked.
“I was referring to the company, not the restaurant.”
I squinted playfully. “You starting to like me or something?”
“It wasneverabout not liking you.”
His eyes widened as he spotted the piece of cake coming toward him, along with three singing members of the restaurant staff. Earlier, I’d pretended to go to the bathroom and asked the waitress if she’d bring a piece of cake to our table for my “dad’s” birthday. It was a big milestone, after all.
“What the fuck?” Tate muttered, looking like he was ready to kill me.
I covered my mouth in laughter.
After they sang happy birthday, the waitress shouted, “Can you believe he’s fifty?”
Gasps rang out around us. Tate actually turned red. This had been well worth it, just to see the expression on his face.
After the crowd left us, he shook his head. “Thanks for that.”
“Of course. I couldn’t let this special day go by.”
“My fake birthday?”
“Well, that’s whattheythink. But in reality, we’re celebrating our first official dinner date.”
He arched a brow. “You think this is a date, huh?”
“Isn’t it?”
“The jury is still out.”
“What’s the holdup?” I dragged my tongue along my bottom lip as his eyes followed the motion.
He cleared his throat. “There’smorethan oneholdup.”
“Like...”
