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“So. Iris,” he says, settling back in his chair. “What will you have to drink?”
Shoot.
I think this might be a date.
Despite the fact that I’m so nervous I can hardly think straight, eventually, I start to relax a little.
Thorne is….
Nice.
And the two vodka sodas that I’ve had help a little.
I’m considering whether or not I should order a third when Thorne lets out a little huff. “I guess we should order some food.”
“We could,” I say, draining the last of the alcohol from my glass.
“What’s good here?”
I shrug. “I’m surprised you haven’t been yet. It’s pretty much the only thing that’s open in the shoulder seasons.”
September is fast ending, and the tourists have emptied out mostly. The summer restaurants have closed, and Oakwood Café is mostly for locals.
“I prefer to cook at home,” he says in a low voice.
Pretending that voice doesn’t send goosebumps shivering over my skin, I nod. “Same. But Max makes a pretty decent vegetarian menu.”
“You’re vegetarian?”
I swear there’s a note of disappointment in his voice.
I fold my arms and narrow my eyes at him. “Maybe.”
“Why? Don’t tell me you’re one of those?—”
I cut him off. “First, people get to choose whatever they put in their bodies. So, no matter what my reasons for being vegetarian are, they’re valid.”
Thorne’s eyes glitter. “Okay. True. Continue.”
“Second… Well, that’s it. I don’t force my choices on anyone, but I rescue animals for a living, so it’s a valid lifestyle for me.”
“That, it is,” he muses.
“So. Yes. I usually order the vegetarian pot pie here. But I have heard that the fried chicken is good, and Max can cook a mean steak.”
Max comes over, nodding at Thorne. “Thorne.”
“Max.”
How do they know each other if Thorne hasn’t eaten here? Small town, I guess.
“What’ll it be?”
“Two vegetarian pot pies,” Thorne says, holding up two fingers.
Max nods and walks away.
I nibble on my bottom lip. “Two?”
