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That widens his smile even more.
A woman working the front counter approaches us. “Mr. Thorsen, your table is ready.”
Rook motions for me to lead the way, so I do that. I resist the urge to glance over my shoulder at him. I’ll eat slowly so I have at least the next two hours to stare at him.
Before I can take a seat on the chair that the woman points at, Rook is around me, tugging the chair back before offering his hand to me.
I swear I hear a little gasp leave the lips of the woman seating us. Whoever said chivalry was dead in this town never spent any time with the good-looking lawyer I’m about to have dinner with.
“I’ll have your server bring you another glass of whiskey, Mr. Thorsen,” she tells Rook after he sits across from me at the small circular table.
His gaze doesn’t leave my face as he answers, “I think we’d prefer two glasses of sparkling water with lemon.”
I like that he remembers what I ordered yesterday at the bar.
“Very well,” she says with a bright smile aimed at him.
He misses it entirely because he can’t take his eyes off of me.
“I’ll have those waters brought right over,” she tries again to catch his eye, but it’s another fail, so she leaves with only a glance in my direction.
“You don’t have to abstain because of me,” I tell him.
A smile ghosts his full lips. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t we agree to meet to discuss not abstaining?”
Well, then. It looks like we’re jumping headfirst into sex talk.
I take his cue and expand on it. “We need to talk about the rules before we settle on a day and time to have sex.”
He leans one elbow on the table. “Let’s do that now so tomorrow is the day, and the time is one minute past midnight.”
Unable to control my laughter, I let it go.
He lets out a chuckle. “Is that a no? No fucking at midnight?”
Our server decides to show up at that moment. If she overheard any of it, she’s hiding it well.
She sets the tall glasses of lemon water down before she dives into a pre-rehearsed speech about what is good on the menu, what today’s specials are, and the lemon blueberry cake that she claims we must try for dessert.
As soon as she’d done, Rook glances up at her before he levels his gaze on my face. “Order for both of us, Carrie.”
Knowing how much I hate it when people make those types of decisions for me, I sigh. “Tell me what you like.”
“You,” he says.
The server giggles. “Is this your first date?”
“Well, actually, it’s…” I stammer as I get set to launch into a mini-speech about this being more of a meeting of sorts than an actual date.
“Yes,” Rook answers her question succinctly.
“That’s sweet,” she comments. “My husband brought me here for our first date, and I loved it so much I work here now.”
I glance up at her face. She looks about my age. “That’s great.”
“The date worked out well for us.” She rubs the small baby bump she’s sporting. “Obviously.”
“What’s your name?” I ask, genuinely curious because she’s not wearing a nametag, and I don’t remember her introducing herself when she walked up to the table.
