CHAPTER SEVEN
Iwas grateful that our food showed up at that moment. Since food was apparently one of his many hobbies, I kept him talking about it instead of about me. It was safer that way.
When the server cleared our plates and offered dessert, I knew I couldn’t take another bite.
“You have to try their crème brûlée,” he said, and ordered two.
“Oh no. I’m too full. You should have ordered one, and I would have tasted yours.”
His eyes opened slightly wider than normal, and it looked like he was holding his breath. For someone who didn’t express his emotions much, it was a visible shock.
“Haven’t you ever shared a dessert before? Is that something you don’t do in your circle?”
“Rarely,” he admitted. “But I would have shared mine with you if I’d thought of it.”
I laughed at that. He was being playful… or was he?
“I like your laugh,” he said, a small smile growing as his gaze lingered on me.
“I liked when you laughed earlier,” I said. “It was the first time I’d heard it.”
His expression reverted to neutral again, the angularity of his face harsh against the lighthearted words we’d exchanged.
“What’s wrong?” I asked.
Now he was the one who looked uncomfortable and shifted in his chair.
“Hmm,” he said. “I guess I’m not as in control of my emotions as I assumed if you can tell that I’m unnerved.”
“Unnerved? Because I said I’d never heard you laugh?”
“We’ve known each other for several days and have been traveling together for over 24 hours. Saying you haven’t heard me laugh shows I’m not… agreeable, and that bothers me.”
“What?” I asked incredulously. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that you’re not agreeable!”
“It’s not your fault. I realize I’m not full of jokes and wit. I’m surprised it bothers me.” He said it all so matter-of-factly.
The entire exchange was so strange. It was weird how direct he was,right? I wasn’t used to men telling me exactly what they think. I certainly never voiced my insecurities.
“Well, earlier when you were telling me your opinion of yourself, you didn’t say you were a comedian. So, at least you were right on that point,” I said, hoping the slight teasing would lighten the mood.
“I should have mentioned I’maccurate,” he said with a wink. This was his way of joking, I realized.
“You said you weren’t witty.” I raised an eyebrow and took a bite of the crème brûlée the server placed in front of me.
It was mouthwateringly delicious. So much so that I closed my eyes and threw my head slightly back.
“Yes,” I said. “Wow. That is amazing.” Creamy, light, and sugary—divine.
“I told you,” he said, taking a bite himself but not taking his eyes off me.
“I’m not sure any crème brûlée will ever compare after this one,” I said after swallowing my last bite.
“You haven’t tried mine,” he said, placing his napkin carefully on the table.
And I probably never will.
I simply smiled and thanked him for the food recommendations that evening. We discussed the next day’s schedule, as far as the time of the flight and the car to the airport. We agreed to meet in the lobby at nine in the morning.
