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“You’re a steak gal,” I said, eying her.
She covered her laugh and reached for a slice of warm bread the waiter placed between us moments ago.
She shook her head and laughed, “What makes me a steak gal? Because I’m from Tennessee?”
“No,” I said, genuinely believing that after a month of working together, I’d pretty much figured out Dr. Mikayla Smith. “Because you’re driven, competitive, and love sports. A total carnivore.”
“That’s why I’d pick the steak for my dinner?”
“Absolutely. You’re nothing like these much softer ladies I’ve known, you’re filled with determination, and you take no bullshit from anyone. Not even me.”
Her eyes narrowed. “Lamb Wellington,” she answered with an arch of her brow.
“Bullshit,” I mouthed, knowing I was right. “Something tells me you’ve never had lamb a day in your life.”
Her head cocked to the side, and her eyes diverted past me while she chewed on her bottom lip.
“Fine,” she conceded. “You’re too much sometimes.”
I nodded, knowing I hadn’t lost my touch. I was good at shit like this. I had to be. I mean, look at my family. I’d be eaten alive if I didn’t learn how to read a room or be able to size up a person at the drop of a hat.
What I liked about being right with Mickie was that I found out that we had a lot in common, like our choice of profession, competitive nature, and sense of humor. She was just cool, and I liked being around her.
We ordered our food, and after the waiter left, it got awkwardly silent at the table because I was suddenly taken by her appearance.
She wore a creamy cashmere sweater that made her sun-kissed skin look like it glowed. Her collarbones tempted me as I imagined my lips caressing and kissing them gently, working my way to the base of her neck where her silky auburn hair would?—
What the hell are you doing? You’re not fucking anyone you work with. Ever, I internally scolded myself, knowing this would have to be the last time I risked taking Mickie out if I couldn’t keep my hormones under control.
“Do you want to know what I hate about dating?” she said, her eyes finished roaming the room and landed on mine.
“I sure hope it has nothing to do with something I’m not doing right now because I’ll remind you, we’re not on a date, Dr. Smith,” I teased, reminding myself of that very fact.
“That’s not why I’m saying that,” she said, sipping her wine, then nodding toward a table to our right. “When you can discreetly look, there’s a couple over there, and they look so uncomfortable.”
I immediately looked, only because I was asked to look discreetly, and the temptation was too strong. “They look adorable.” I looked back at her, “But her dress is quite revealing, and he’s too damn stiff.”
“I’ll bet you he ain’t getting laid tonight,” she chuckled.
“No bet needed.” I glanced over to the candlelit table again, “She’s forcing it, sipping on her wine uncomfortably but trying to be sexy.”
“He’s laughing too much at something that doesn’t seem funny while she keeps glancing down to make sure her boobs haven’t sprung loose from her top.”
I chuckled and looked back at Mickie, “So, you’re a people watcher too, eh?”
“Well, when the guy in front of me guesses my order correctly, then gets quiet, and his expression suddenly looks like he’s trying to hold in a fart, yeah. I guess I’ve got to entertain myself,” she said.
“Holding in a fart?” I laughed abruptly, shocked at her deduction of my internal struggle of wanting to fuck her and walk away the following day. “That’s what I looked like I was doing?”
“I have no idea, but I can imagine that’s how you would look if you were straining to take a shit or something.”
I damn near choked on my wine while hearing her out.
“If only you knew what I was thinking about,” I offered.
“I’m just saying it seemed quite painful, is all,” she answered.
“Well, perhaps it was painful,” I said, realizing that I would love to enjoy this woman’s body in my home tonight, and it sucked that I couldn’t.
