My eyes prickled as he squeezed me once, then let go. He guided us to the host stand, putting on the charming smile I was quite familiar with. “Reservation for two, O’Toole, please.”
“Right this way.” The hostess smiled at him, then me. “We have a spot for you in the back, like you requested.”
Requested? I eyed Callum, but he shrugged. I thought I saw a slight pink on his ears, but the dim lighting made me question it. I’d never had anyone reserve a table for me specifically, and it just went right into the column ofwhat is happening.
“This is right by our greenhouse. We grow a lot of our herbs here, which is part of what makes this place special. A waiter will be right with you.” She left us at a small, two-person booth, but my attention was on the outdoor garden. Twinkle lights covered the top, and ivy was just…everywhere.
“This is beautiful.”
“Mm hmm.”
I smiled at him, but he was staring right at me, not the garden. My heart stuttered. No other explanation for it. Warmth shone from every feature on his face, and my axis tilted again. “C-Callum?—”
“Please, sit.” His expression shifted back to normal, the dimples popping out. “What do I get if I guess exactly what you’re going to order?”
“No. There’s no way. I haven’t been here before, so you don’t know.” I sat, thankful for the change of topic. It was almost like he knew I needed this. “I could only eat cheese now. On a strict cheese diet.”
“You’re not, and if you were, I’d give you some tough love because that is terribly unhealthy.” He glanced at the menu before leaning onto his elbows. “What do I win if I’m right?”
“You’re awfully competitive, aren’t you?” I grinned as I scanned the main courses. I was a sucker for sweet potatoes and brussels sprouts. They were my favorite side dishes where the main protein could rotate. The chicken looked good but so did the salmon.
High school me would’ve done the burger and sweet potatoes, but that wasn’t me anymore. But Callum seemed confident, and it was always fun to knock him down a peg or two. “Okay, fine. Guess what I’ll order.”
“And if I get it right?”
I shrugged. “Five dollars?”
“No.” He pressed his lips together again. “I get to kiss you after dinner.”
Holy shit. My stomach bottomed out as an aggressive anticipation flowed through me.
I coughed into my fist, just as our waiter approached. His nametag read Peter, and we both ordered a glass of wine, him red, me white, and I took a sip of the cold water already on the table to settle my heartrate.
Kiss me.
This was the second time he’d mentioned kissing me in the last week. Even thinking about it had my mouth tingling.
"Now, just in case you change your mind and try to find a way to win this thing, I’m gonna write down your order on this napkin and give it to you face down before you say anything.” He pulled a pen from his pocket and wiggled his eyebrows.
“You seem confident about this.” I ran a finger down the menu, already making up my mind. I could order something to throw him off, but then, did I want that?
Did I want him to kiss me? I stared at his lips and found myself licking mine.
“I’m motivated. Super fucking motivated.” His gaze dropped to my mouth before returning to my eyes.
I blushed, hard. “No wonder girls fell at your feet your whole life. I feel so out of my element with you right now, but this charming act?—”
“Two things before we move forward,” he said, his tone holding a bite to it. He waited for me to meet his intense blue gaze. “Nothing I do with you is an act. Ever. Not for a second. Okay?”
I nodded.
“You’re not ready to hear what I have to say. I can see that. I came on too strong, and I’m sorry if I made you feeluncomfortable in any way. This feeling is new for me too, but Ivy, I’ll go as slow as you need.”
“Slow?” I said, my voice barely a whisper.
“I want to date you.”
“Me.”
