He smiled a half smile that settled like warm butter in my gut. “I asked if you were hungry.”
“Starving,” I answered truthfully.
“Good.”
His words slid rough and delicious inside me, abrading my blood. Until I was breathless just from the way it rumbled low in his throat, like I’d deeply pleased him.
His hand slid to the menu, still keeping his eyes on me. “They do a killer pot roast.”
“I don’t eat?—”
“Meat,” he finished for me. “Everything here is vegan or vegetarian. If you’re not into faux meat, their butternut squash soup is pretty fucking great.”
“Oh, that does sound—”Wait.“How did you know I don’t eat meat?”
Calder tensed, his jaw tightened, and for a moment I would have sworn he looked nervous. But then he smiled, a slow, confident thing that made a dimple pop in his right cheek.
Whoa.
“Never know with first dates,” he said. “Figure better safe than sorry.”
“Oh,” I said. “That’s nice.”
Another half smile, this time pinching his deep blue eyes.
“Did you play water polo?” I blurted.
He leaned back in his chair, stretching his arms overhead, still with the fucking eye contact, lips curled, like my question had charmed him.
His hands came to the back of his head, casual. “I rowed.”
Of course.
It was, like,theposhest of activities outside of hunting men for sport.
“You have the look about you,” I said in explanation.
“Look?” The slightly offended arch of his brow had me smiling, but the waiter came over again, saving me from having to answer.
“Ready?” she asked.
He waited for my answer. In that moment I knew if I said no, he would accept it. He would sit here for ten hours and let me stutter through questions.
“Maybe pot roast,” I said, picking up the leather-bound menu.
Oh.
Shit.
I tried to school my features at the prices. A meal here could easily halve my paycheck. While Calder ordered, I searched for the cheapest thing on the menu. It was still over a hundred dollars. Was the salad dipped in gold?
Calder finished and the waitress turned to me, waiting.
I ordered the ridiculously overpriced arugula-and-pear salad, handing her the menu. No sooner had she left than Calder leaned forward, arms crossed on the table.
“I thought you were hungry?” Candlelight flickered across the question in his arched brow, casting his jaw and cheekbones in sharp chiaroscuro.
“I…” I fiddled with the napkin in my lap. “I guess not.”
