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“I own the place,” he says with a casual shrug.
“Wow,” I mutter, glancing around once again at the majesty of it all. “I know you said you always used to dream of this stuff as a kid, but why, Saul? Was it just something that generally interested you?”
Our conversation is cut off when the waiter approaches, asking if we’d like a drink. The waiters all wear medieval-style tabards but modernized to somehow look like suits at the same time. It would be tacky if the tabards didn’t look so authentic.
“I’ll just have an orange soda,” I tell the waiter.
“Orange soda sounds delicious,” Saul says, and the waiter leaves. He faces me. “Now, where were we, my gorgeous—”
“What?” I urge.
Don’t stop, Saul, not when it starts with ‘gorgeous’.
“I have to control myself,” he says with a shaky breath. “If I start down that road, I’ll end up ordering this place to be evacuated and taking you right here on the … See, Sparkplug, see what you do to me.”
“Okay, then,” I giggle. “Strictly no you-know-what talk until after dinner, deal?”
“Deal,” he says, with some difficulty. “But that just means I’m going to have to hold it all inside until after, and I can’t promise I won’t explode like a madman.”
A shiver runs through me, lust dancing beneath a budding anxiety. Just because we’re compatible when he’s pleasing me, that doesn’t mean we will be the other way around. I saw the outline of his manhood, the hugeness of it.
What if I can’t—
But no, because riding that train of thought would just see me wrecking this wonderful dinner.
“I wouldn’t expect you to,” I tease.
Don’t think about Fiona, I snap at myself when my thoughts stray.
The waiter brings our sodas and then leaves us to let us look over the menus, which are laid out like old medieval manuscripts.
“Saul,” I say. “Are you going to keep a girl waiting forever?”
“Well, I guess the first thing you should know is that I was a small kid.”
“What?” I laugh. “Are you kidding me?”
“No,” he banters.
Even so, I find it hard to believe as he sits there, all seven foot of him, looking like a giant sitting at a kids table. He’s taken off his suit jacket and his white shirt is tight against his muscled flesh, every inch of him bulging, pressing against his skin as though the beast isn’t just going to break out inside of him.
It’s going to break through his skin, too.
“Jeez,” I mutter. “How small are we talking?”
“Very small,” he says. “Up until the age of about fourteen, I was the smallest kid in my class, in every class.”
I watch, patiently, delighted that he’s opening up to me the same way I did on the ride over.
“There were two things in my life that made me feel big at that age, that made all the bullying and shit worth it.”
“Wait, you were bullied?” I say, disbelief mounting.
“For a little while,” he says, with a shrug like it’s no big deal. “I started studying martial arts at the age of eleven, before my growth spurt, and the bullying stopped pretty damn quick then. Even big bastards fall when they take a decent one-two to the face.”
My wombs sings, See, he’s a warrior too. Who better to protect our offspring? Now stop all this silly dinner nonsense and find somewhere private to pounce on his pogo-stick, young lady.
“Anyway, so two things made you feel big?”
“Excuse me, are you ready to order?” the waiter asks, appearing at our side.
He’s a young man and has a harried look on his face. It’s quite busy tonight, so it makes sense.
“I am,” Saul says good-naturedly. “But that’s only because I get the same thing every time I come here. I’m not sure if the lady needs more time to peruse?”
He turns to me and I glance down at the menu, my belly rumbling when I eye the double-stacked quarter pounder with skin-on fries and green beans—all cooked with medieval methods, apparently.
“Sadie, what is it?” Saul asks, reading me.
“I want the burger?” I murmur.
Saul glances at the waiter. “Just a moment,” he says.
The waiter nods and retreats, leaving us in privacy once more.
“Why do you say that like a question, Sadie?” he asks.
“Well, I don’t know, maybe you don’t want to watch me scoffing down a double-stack burger on our first date,” I huff, with far more intensity than I intended.
He laughs boomingly, not caring when several of the other guests turn to glance at our table.
“What?” I snap, cheeks reddening.
“I’m not laughing at you,” he says quickly, reaching across the table and taking my hand. “It’s just that that’s what I order every time I come here. We’re so well-matched. I know it seems like a small thing, but it isn’t to me.”
“And you wouldn’t mind?”
“Sadie, I want you to choose the meatiest, juiciest thing on the menu. It suits you, since you’re the meatiest and juiciest woman I’ve ever met. And you need to keep your strength up for our children. Order five goddamn burgers if you want to. Anything to keep those hips nice and curvy, you plus size goddess.”
