She looked at the lamb in his hands, then back up to his face with a grin. “You’re doing the butcher thing. Where you figure out where it came from.”
He shrugged. “Force of habit.”
“I know.” She smiled. “I do the same with technique.I can’t eat anywhere without reverse-engineering the kitchen.”
He thought about her asking for the collard green recipe and then cooking it a few days later, and the text that evening to let him know it was almost exactly the same, but it was close enough unless she wanted to make her own apple cider vinegar, or find someone locally who did.
The short rib gnocchi was the last thing to arrive and the last thing he expected to win the day, but someone had managed to braise ribs down to the most tender thing he’d ever put into his mouth — a rich, concentrated flavor you only get with time and skill.
He had to close his eyes while he ate it to give it the attention it deserved.
Before he took his third bite, he told her, “This is the best thing I’ve eaten today.”
“Including the dry-aged ribeye? The Galbi?”
He considered that. “Different categories.” He took another bite. “I grew up in Appalachia, so this is better than the Galbi to me, but a Korean butcher would probably prefer what’s familiar to him.”
She looked pleased, as if she’d won some kind of contest, and he supposed she had. He hadn’t known it was a competition when he’d picked the restaurant last week, but apparently, Potbellies been good enough to start one. He still had places he could takeher, though.
Outside, the river had gone gold with the last of the afternoon light, and the bridge cast its long shadow across the water.
Only another hour or two, and she’d be in his ropes, but he was enjoying this time with her. He’d learned a lot about her just by putting her on his bike, but then there’d been the disappearing creek, the boulders of the Fruit Bowl, her appreciation of Raven’s Point — not to mention how comfortable she’d been in an old country diner. And then today, watching her climb had been like a chocolate-covered cherry on top.
He was in love with every facet of her, and looked forward to learning more about this complex, brilliant, beautiful woman.
He wanted all of her, and he was going to have to figure out what to do about that — but not tonight. Tonight, she was his, and he knew exactly what to do with her.
They stopped on the bridge to look at the evening view. Same city, different lighting, and it made a big difference.
He thought they were on the way back to her car, but Tuesday had one more surprise when they walked by the carousel — she grabbed his hand and pulled him towards the bizarre animals circling a partially mirrored center.
He looked at the carousel. Then at her. “You can’t be serious.”
“It’s a hundred-year-old antique. Hand-carved and hand-painted. A local master woodcarver spentyearsrestoring it.”
He just stared at her, and she added, “I’m riding it. You can either watch or ride it with me.”
If she’d told him he was riding it, he’d have declined, but giving him a choice made it harder to refuse.Dammit.
She bought tokens, they waited for the current ride to end, and when the gate opened, she walked straight to a carved tiger — deep orange and black, mid-leap, frozen at the apex of something ferocious — and looked at him expectantly.
Knife looked around at the bear, the frog, the rabbit, and the fucking ostrich —and mentally shook his head.No fucking way.
A horse was right behind the tiger, and he climbed on it. At least he could keep an eye on her from here.
The music started and the carousel began to move, and Knife watched the river appear and disappear, watched Tuesday rise and fall with the tiger, grinning like a little kid, and decided maybe this wasn’t the worst thing in the world.
As long as no one got a picture and showed it to his brothers.
Chapter 26
Tuesday thought the day had gone well. He’d seemed to genuinely enjoy climbing, as well as both meals. Maybe not the carousel, but he’d ridden and not just watched.
And now he was holding her hand while they walked through Coolidge Park and then Renaissance Park. They were in one of the wooded areas when Knife suddenly stopped, turned her toward him, and took her mouth in a kiss that stole every thought from her head.
It wasn’t gentle. It was pure domination — one arm around her torso, his other hand fisting in her hair, and he used his body to walk her off the trail until her back was pressed against a tree. His lips and tongue claimed her like he already owned every inch of her. He kept kissing her until her knees went weak and her mind melted into warm, liquid need. Until her hips wanted to move into him.
When he finally pulled back, she was breathing hard, lips tingling, clit throbbing, heat spreading through her entire lower torso.
