“All it takes is one broken chair leg to make a girl stick to booths,” I answer wryly.
“I’ve broken more than my share, too,” he chuckles. “And that includes the metal ones you’d think were reinforced. Sometimes, I can’t even get into booths; my legs are too long and my feet hit the opposite bench.”
I cover my mouth to keep my laugh in, but he nudges me.
“You can laugh. That’s one of the reasons I always wear sneakers. My feet are so big, everything else looks like clown shoes. Half of the major shoe brands don’t even carry my size.”
At six feet tall and over two hundred pounds, I have to deal with both limited sizes and hems that make me look like I’m preparing for a flood. A skirt that looks fine on most women looks indecent on someone my height. My feet aren’t small either; I wear a size eleven when most of the cute styles stop at ten. It’s part of why Denise’s line is so exciting. It’ll be one more brand providing options to women like me.
Thinking about Damon’s feet, however, has me clenching my thighs together. If his feet are too big for even men’s sizes, I can’t wait to see what that means for my kitty later. I look up to find him smirking at me; my thoughts must have been written all over my face.
“Um,” I clear my throat and gesture toward the menu in his hand. “Everything looks so good, right? You know, I’ve actually been here once before, but it was a working meeting, so I barely tasted it. I honestly couldn’t tell you if I had the Osso Buco ora house salad. I’m leaning towards the chicken piccata tonight, though. What about you?”
He takes a drink from his water glass instead of answering, a gleam in his eye. This is thelasttime I suggest dinner! The added pressure is obviously getting to me.
I try to settle back into the worn leather seat when he asks,
“How long has it been?”
I blush at his bold question. He wants details before we even order appetizers? I guess that’s the whole reason we’re here, but…
I worry my lip.Fuck it.He already caught me drooling; I may as well come clean.
“Almost a year. That’s why I’m being a little more forward than I normally would. This drought is killing me!”
I flip to the back of the wine list, proactively scanning the dessert wines for something to have with my tiramisu. When he still hasn’t responded to my admission, I hazard a glance, only to find him full-on grinning at me, his menu forgotten. I gasp.
“Oh God! You didn’t mean sex,” I groan into my hands. “Please, God. Kill me now.”
He shakes his head, a mischievous twinkle in his eye.
“No,” he says in a scolding tone. “You can’t die now. We’ve got to get you laid first.”
I’m still too mortified to speak when the waiter arrives to take our orders. He pours a sip of wine into Damon’s glass, which Damon swirls around like a kid shaking a snow globe before taking an exaggerated slurp. I bite my lip to stifle a giggle.
“This is great,” Damon says with a polite bob of his head, then watches as the waiter fills both our glasses.
Once we’ve ordered, I take a small sip, letting the flavor burst onto my tongue, then dip the freshly baked bread into the small plate of olive oil sitting on the table.
“I hope you won’t be grossed out if I have a bite of your tagliatelle bolognese,” I warn. “I almost got it, but I couldn’t resist the gnocchi carbonara.”
He scoffs.
“As much time as I’ve spent in locker rooms, it’s literally impossible for anything you do to gross me out.”
I smile, twisting my nose at the thought.
“You paint quite the picture.”
“Sorry,” he shrugs. “Between basketball and four brothers, you’re lucky I haven’t reverted to a caveman.”
“What’s that like, by the way?” At his questioning gaze, I add, “Four brothers. I grew up an only child, though I have two new step-brothers courtesy of my dad’s latest wife.” Damon cocks an eyebrow, but I wave him off. “That’s a story for another time.”
“Well,” he answers around a bite of bread, “it’s like being born into a fraternity, complete with hazing. My brothers are everything to me, especially our youngest, Adam. But I’m the middle child of five, so, you know.”
He trails off, but I bump him with my knee under the table.
“No,” I draw out the word. “I don’t know at all.” I point to myself. “Only child, remember?”
