“Paella takes too long,” Everett said without looking up, scanning the menu like he was assessing a budget sheet. “Kelsey will be asleep on the table.”
His daughter shot him a look. “Dad, if Rowan wants paella, I can wait. I stay up much later than you think. Plus, dessert will be the goal.”
His brow climbed. “I’m not saying she can’t have it. I’m saying maybe if you’d order more than chicken fingers or plain pizza, we can actually have an experience together.”
A dragged-out sigh full of teen frustration. “I’ll try something new but if I hate it, I get to order pizza without you complaining.”
“Deal.”
Rowan watched with amusement. Their conversation reminded her of two lawyers negotiating. She wondered if that was how they communicated. What had really happened with Kelsey’s mother?
The waiter appeared. White towel tucked over his arm as he poured water, he was young and polished. “How are you this evening? Can I get the lady a cocktail before reciting the specials?”
“I’ll wait until I decide what to order,” she answered. Everett gave her a level look, as if trying to figure her out. Probably thought she ate fish sticks and fries like Kels. “I’m an adventurous eater. Kind of a hobby of mine.”
“Eating?”
Her lip twitched. “Yes.”
The waiter looked pleased. “Wonderful, ma’am. I know our menu will satisfy your palate. This is what the chef has to offer additionally.”He rattled off a few entrées—fish, meat, pasta. Her mind locked in and sorted the items like a dictionary.
Everett’s gaze met hers across the table. “Are you ready? Or do you need more time?”
Ah, a challenge. It practically sparked in the air around them and made her smile slow. “Ready. Shall we share plates to begin?”
He didn’t expect the suggestion. A frown creased his brow as if he was thrown off. “Yes.”
“I trust you, Rowan! But please not the urchin thing,” Kelsey said.
Her lip twitched. Everett remained quiet and waited for her to start. She did.
“We’ll begin with thesolomillo con foie.Gambas al ajillo. And the bone marrow with gremolata.”
Kelsey squealed. “Bone marrow?”
“It’s delicious, but I understand if you don’t want to try it. It tastes like a smoky luxury. Rich as hush money. Bright like a squeeze of summer.” A flashback of her dad hit. They used to compete to describe their food—winner got to pick dessert. Rowan felt the sudden heat of Everett’s gaze but refused to look across the table.
“Beautifully said,” the waiter commented. His own gaze looked at her with a mix of flirtation and interest.
“No way,” Kelsey said. “Do you know how many times Dad tried to trick me by telling me it tastes like chicken?”
“A flowery description but creative,” Everett said. “Personally, I think it tastes more like butter that finally grew up.”
Oh, that was good. She refused to acknowledge the comment and continued with her order. “For the main courses, let’s do the seafood paella and thejamón de bellota. And on the Italian side, the squid-ink tonnarelli.”
“Black spaghetti? Cool. And a margherita pizza,” Kelsey threw in at the last second, grinning at Rowan. “Insurance.”
Everett cocked his head, probably doing mental math even though the man could buy the entire menu if he was in charge of Purity. “That seems ... ambitious.”
She’d won. There was no way he could eat like her. Rowan refused to examine the tiny flash of disappointment. “Understood. We’ll remove whatever you’d like. It’s probably overkill.”
The waiter looked disappointed. “It truly is a beautiful order,” he said.
Everett gave a grunt, glancing from the waiter to Rowan. “You think you can eat all that?” he asked mildly.
“Yes.”
A wolfish grin flashed, full of arrogance and masculinity that made heat scratch up her spine. “Then we need it all.”
