“Don’t be. The doorman in my building pretty much had the same reaction. I had no idea paint had gotten all over me like that, but then, I wasn’t thinking about that when I reached for the umbrella. I was hoping to knock it out of the way.”
“But you caught it. It was like you were Spiderman or something.”
With all seriousness, he lowered his voice and said, “I hate to admit this, but I don’t look that good in tights.”
She giggled.
He liked the way her nose wrinkled when she giggled.
The first course came out. They savored every bite, and he couldn’t imagine having picked a better option from the menu.
“I rarely get this special treatment,” he admitted. “It’s nice, though.”
“Thank goodness, because it’s over the top. I’m honestly a pretty simple girl.” She twisted the stem of her wineglass. “The wine is a nice touch, but I’m pretty happy with a bubbly apple cider. Call me crazy.”
“Seriously? I’m the same,” he said. “Have you tried the sparkling apple cider from Muse Orchard? It’s only a couple hours from here.”
“Never heard of it.”
“I haven’t been in years, but I think I still have a case of it at home. I’ll get you a bottle.”
“Muse, huh? Now that makes sense, you being an artist and all. I’d love to share a bottle someday. Have you been down to Blue Bee Cider?”
“Many times.” He’d never had a muse, but he felt rather inspired at the moment. “Sorry about ruining your dress the other night. I had no idea that I was covered in paint.”
“It’s definitely ruined, but that’s better than getting jousted. You probably saved me a trip to the ER for stitches.” Whitney placed her fork down and took a sip of wine. “It’s fine. It’s just a dress. It can be replaced.”
“If you haven’t taken it to the dry cleaner yet, I’ve been pretty successful getting paint out of my clothes. I have years of practice.”
“No. You don’t have to do that. And trust me, if I could get away with it, you’d see me in jeans and a T-shirt on a summer day like today. But it’s part of the deal when you have a job at a big firm, and Daddy had to pull a lot of strings to get the old buzzards who call the shots to allow me to come in andspearhead the divorce and family law division. The least I can do is dress the part.”
“It’s hard to picture you in jeans.”
“I used to spend all my time on my uncle’s farm in blue jeans. I had to muck stalls to earn riding time. I love the smell of freshly cut hay. Climbing on the bales like stairs when they are stacked to the top. I love that stuff. And I might add, I’d be just as good of a lawyer wearing them. Unfortunately, it’s the price of entry to work at Barron, Winters & Wall. It’s sort of a stuffy old firm with lots of history and tradition.”
“Pomp and circumstance.”
“You got it,” she said. “I’m sure you encounter it in the art world too.”
“Old money. Unspoken rules. Things I’ve learned to quietly navigate.” He rested his forearms on the table. “It’s refreshing. This. I mean, I like this side of you. I get worn out with the schmoozing. It’s nice for a little while, but I like the simple stuff too.”
“I totally get that.”
The second course came, and it was a small portion, but rich and decadent.
“I was going to make a smart comment about not worrying about fitting into my jeans with this teensy portion, but it was so rich, I’m not sure that’s going to hold water.”
He picked up his glass. “The portion was deceiving.”
The food kept coming, until they both looked at each other and Whitney said, “I can’t possibly eat another course. Please tell them to stop.”
“I know how to make them stop.” He pulled out his wallet and placed a tip on the table. “Come on.” He stood and extended his hand for her to get up.
“What are we doing? We can’t skip out.”
“I know you don’t know me, but you do not have to worry about that.” He led her back to the front, released her hand, and walked over to tell the host he’d like to settle the bill.
“It’s been taken care of, Mr. McMahon.”
