As a doctor, I knew smiles couldn’t literally stop hearts, but as I watched Nicole’s lips bloom into the prettiest picture, my cardiac rhythm skipped a beat.
Her head tilted, her hair falling over her shoulder. “Whenever I think I’ve got you figured out, you surprise me.”
I twisted in the small space allotted between the seat and the steering wheel, giving her my full attention. “That means you haven’t spent enough time with me.” I gave her a look of teasing suggestion.
She shook her head and smiled. Two reactions I was becoming familiar with in response to my playfulness. “Then again, maybe you’re exactly who I thought you were.”
I reached out and touched a lock of her hair, letting its silk smooth across the pads of my fingertips as gravity pulled my hand down. “You’re everything I didn’t know I needed.” My voice grew husky. My hand continued its downward descent, trailing her arm and landing at her open palm. I squeezed. “Come on. Let’s get some food.”
The restaurant sported a modern vibe, with a bank of floor-to-ceiling windows along one wall, exposed ductwork suspended from the ceiling, and greenery planted in sconces, hanging and cascading from thick boards with impressive wood grains against a red-brick wall. Dangling Edison bulbs over each table gave the dining room a warm glow.
The hostess greeted us as soon as we entered and showed us a table in the corner.
Nicole opened her menu. “I’ve never eaten here before.” She peered up at me through her lashes. “You look surprised.”
“That’s because I am.”
She shrugged. “Most guys prefer steak and potatoes to cauliflower and ancient grains.”
“Go on a lot of dates, do you?”
A hidden smile played behind her flat lips. “Only when the Nature Conservancy is in need of money.”
It was my turn to shake my head and smile. I opened my menu and skimmed the entrees. What in the world was seitan or tempeh? “What are you going to get?”
“I might try the truffled mushrooms and coconut bacon with the house flat bread.”
Mushrooms weren’t my favorite, so I couldn’t play it safe and copy her order.
Our server approached with a smile and set down water with beaded condensation gripping the sides of the glasses. “Do you folks need a few more minutes, or are you ready to order?”
Nicole raised her brows in my direction.
“You go ahead.”
As she told the server her choice, I scrambled to find a dish with ingredients I’d heard of before. I ate healthily, lots of fruits and vegetables, but I could safely say fermented bean curd had never touched my plate.
“And for you, sir?”
“Umm…I think I’ll have the barbeque pulled jackfruit tacos.”
“I’ll put this right in for you guys.” She slipped her pen and pad of paper into her apron and walked over to a computer by the entrance of the kitchen.
Nicole’s eyes seemed to laugh at me. “Big jackfruit fan, are you?”
“Sure. I eat it all the time.” Never had it in my life.
“Uh huh. So, tell me. What exactly is a jackfruit, and what does it look like?”
I crossed my arms on the table and leaned forward. “Well, I don’t know what the media has told you, but don’t believe it. They have a political agenda.”
“On jackfruit.” She pushed her lips down when they obviously wanted to turn up.
I kept my face as serious as if I were delivering bad news to a patient. “Oh, yes. It’s all a huge cover up.”
“And what exactly are they trying to cover up?”
“How the fruit got its name, naturally.”
