“Liam,” he smiles. “Lucas is my cousin, but his husband Knox is the mastermind behind this.”
Shaking my head, I admit, “I don’t know the logistics of this, but I’d guess Knox was a willing pawn in Lexi’s game.”
He opens his mouth, but our server finally walks up. “Good evening, my name’s Oliver and I’ll be your server tonight.” With the typical spiel, he tells us this month’s signature dishes and cocktails.
I only realize now that Liam didn’t order a drink yet, and he raises his eyebrows in a question. I guess even one drink indicates I plan on staying a while… but now that I know he’s the mystery guy, I’m more comfortable being here. Even a bit of excitement coils in my stomach, sparking like electricity.
One drink doesn’t need to lead to another night of sex. That would complicate things now, and I’m not interested in that.
Which is slightly unfortunate.
Deciding that wine is a safer option, I order a Riesling and wait for Liam’s next move.
“A bottle of that,” he says.
It surprises me. Last time, he was drinking whiskey. It seemed fitting—men always drink whiskey, even if they don’t like the burn. Yet, he actually enjoyed the drink. It wasn’t for show.
Oliver walks away, leaving us with our unopened menus. Twisting my lips to the side, I glance down at it. There was a special he mentioned that sounded delicious—the lobster tail layered on forbidden rice with some sort of coconut-cilantro sauce. Emulsion, I think. Baking full-time doesn’t allow me a lot of time to keep up with my cooking skills, but podcasts and shows help me stay familiar with the trends.
There’s an appetizer Max has been teasing all over the restaurant’s Instagram. That’s what really has me questioning how badly I want to leave after one glass…
”You know,” Liam says, taking a sip of water, “Opening the menu doesn’t mean you’re agreeing to a five-course meal. You can take a look without any pressure.”
I’m surprised he noticed my internal battle, but a lot of our time at the bar was centered around food—mostly desserts, and thecorrectdrink pairing. I don’t fully remember how that conversation led us up to his hotel room. I would say it was more due to the three drinks I’d had, but that’d be a lie. Those only helped us both loosen up enough to do things you wouldn’t with your average hook up.
Or maybe just things thatIdon’t do with the average one-night stand. Like telling him to get on his knees for me… or fucking in the shower… and worst of all, staying the night. Sure, I slipped out before he woke up, but I still fell asleep in his bed for a few hours. It counts in my book.
Meeting his eye, I tap the menu and admit, “There are a few things I would like to try; if I open that menu, there’s a very good chance this will turn into a five-course meal.”
His brows flick up and an easy smirk pulls at his lips. “I’ve been schooled by you once before when it comes to food, so please.” He waves his hand and sits back, happy to let me make all the choices.I like that. He adds, “It’s on me. Order anything you want.”
My mouth drops open a little. Max’s is delicious butexpensive. Like, two-hundred-dollars-a-person expensive, not including the bottle of wine. It’s why I only come here once or twice a year.
Instead ofthank you, like a normal person, I clarify, “We aren’t hooking up again.”
There’s a minuscule part of me that hates myself for blurting that out. The other ninety-nine percent wants to flee at the idea of becoming attached to someone again—and there’s something about Liam Maddon that tells me I would become a barnacle to him if I weren’t so closed off.
“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Liam smoothly replies. I don’t give a fuck if it was my rule; I’m a little offended that he agreed so easily. Before I can respond, he adds with faux innocence, “Oh wait, I definitely did that a few times.”
My mouth nearly pops open at the same moment Oliver returns with our bottle of Clean Slate Mosel Riesling, but I bite down on my tongue.
“Have you had time with the menus? Maybe an appetizer to start?” Oliver looks between us, politely waiting.
Liam’s eyes are on me, letting me make the decision.
“The strawberry ceviche,” I start, glancing at Liam. I’ve learned that most people are more adventurous when they’re trying pastries than they are with entrées. Strawberry and jalapeño muffins? Now that’s something that would sell. Making a mental note to talk to Chuck about that, I take in Liam’s expression.
He’s curious but not disgusted or put off. That’s a good sign.
Oliver uncorks the bottle and begins to fill my wineglass. “The charred jalapeño and strawberry ceviche? Great choice. And it’ll pair with this Riesling perfectly.”
A small smile tugs on Liam’s lips. It’s not flirty or playful like most of the other ones I’ve seen. It’s soft and genuine, reminiscent of the expression on his face as he looked down at me in bed, before turning off the light and falling asleep with an arm under my head.
Quickly looking away, I nod at Oliver as he goes over more options that would be a great follow-up to the appetizer. I barely catch him mentioning the lobster dish before he’s walking away.
Taking my time to meet his eye, I look around, pretending to be interested in the décor and focusing on my wineglass. The idea is to give him as much time to wipe that expression off his face.
“I picked up on the fact you’re kind of a foodie—” I wrinkle my nose at the term, making him chuckle. “But I’m quickly realizing it goes deeper than that.”
