He smiled and shrugged. “I expect it’s like medicine. It’s all important on some level.”
“But that’s not your focus,” I guessed.
His expression shifted into a fake yawn. “I talk baseball all day. Tell me about an average shift for you.”
“There’s not much to tell, really.” I dropped my chin on my fist. “You know all about my family. Tell me about yours. You come from a long line of firefighters, right?”
He nodded, but there was a wariness in his eyes that startled me. But then he spoke with the ease of long practice. As if he were giving me a canned response made smooth by his smile. “All the men in my family are firefighters. I was, too, until I got accepted into the minors. We’re proud to serve Indianapolis and have for generations.”
I nodded, then pressed for a little more information. “You said the men. What about the women? Do you have any sisters? What did your mother do?”
His mouth tightened briefly, and then he shrugged it away. “Mom and Dad split when I was fifteen. My brother and I stayed with Dad. My sister went with Mom, and we haven’t really talked since. They’re both secretaries out west.”
I winced. I couldn’t imagine life without my sister. Or without talking to my mother. “You don’t talk? Like at all?”
He swallowed. “The last thing Mom said to me was that she loved me. Then she got in the car and left.”
Ouch. It was bad enough that what he described sounded awful, but it was made all the worse because I could see him covering the pain with a casual shrug. “I’m so sorry,” I said, my hand stretching open on the table. I wanted to touch him, but it was too soon. We were still in the getting-to-know-each-other phase, but the need to soothe him was unexpectedly strong.
“It’s in the past,” he said.
No, it wasn’t. A rejection like that didn’t go away. And now I felt silly for being devastated when someone yelled at me at work. Here he was, shrugging off his mother’s abandonment with a casual flick of his hand. And then he abruptly leaned forward.
“Let’s talk about something else.” His expression slid into a lascivious grin. “Something that excites us both.”
My eyebrows lifted while my heart sped up. God, his smile conjured up all sorts of dirty thoughts. But then—infuriating man—he just left the words hanging as our first course was delivered. Oh my God. There was no describing the food that appeared. Best guess, it was bacon wrapped around something and decorated with garnish. But the whole thing dangled from a specially designed circular ladder that came complete with flowers and compotes laid out in an artistic design.
It was stunning. And then suddenly I got it.
“You meant food, didn’t you? That’s your exciting topic?”
He grinned. “We are at Alinea.”
“Fine.” I reached forward and carefully lifted up the bacon-wrapped something. Jake mirrored my movements. Then we paused before simultaneously popping the food into our mouths.
It wasn’t classy to groan in delight, but I did it anyway. Whatever I’d just eaten flooded my mouth with tastes. I wasn’t a foodie, not in the classic sense. But I could taste the difference between oregano and dill. I understood how to use my spice cabinet. And I knew some ways to make the cheapest meal taste amazing.
But this was food on a whole other level. Flavors complemented each other. Textures smoothed through my mouth. And in my head, I was a runningTop Chefcommentary of delight. One look at Jake showed me that he was equally pleased. Hell, his eyes were at half-mast as he rolled his head back and chewed.
“We’re going overboard,” I whispered, acutely embarrassed by my groan of delight.
“Are we?” he countered.
“No. This is amazing.”
Then he grinned and reached for another bite. “God, I love Gia.”
I arched my brow in surprise, and he hastily amended.
“She’s the one who got us in here. I’d love to claim credit, but this is all part of the publicity thing she runs for the Bobcats.”
“Good to know,” I said, unsure how I felt about that. But then I realized it was all part of what I’d started when I’d asked him to take me out. Besides, the food here was spectacular, so I wasn’t going to complain. In fact, I was going to enjoy every single bite. Inspired, I leaned forward and grinned. “What’s the weirdest food you’ve ever eaten?”
He answered without hesitation. “Some bug.”
“You mean like a chocolate-covered ant?”
“Nah. I did it on a stupid dare when I was ten. I don’t like thinking about it. What about you?”
