“I know most of them because Doc always calls them by their call signs when he talks about them,” she said, placing the menu on the table.
“What did you decide for dinner?” he asked.
“I’m having the ribeye with garlic butter, a twice-baked potato, and a salad. For dessert, I’m having the apple crumble cobbler with ice cream,” she informed him with a grin.
“Wow, I’m impressed. You may want to hold off on the dessert or take it home. The steaks are good-sized,” he warned as he placed his menu on top of hers.
“What will you be having?” she asked.
“I’m having the ribeye with garlic butter, a twice-baked potato, and a salad,” he repeated, making her laugh.
“You copied me,’ she exclaimed.
“Excuse me, I happen to know this menu by heart. I order this almost every time I come,” he defended himself.
Narrowing her eyes, she peered at him to see if he told the truth. “What about dessert?”
“I have a standing take-out order for the dessert of the day,” he guiltily confessed, making her giggle even more.
“What happened to eating healthy?” she asked.
“In my defense, I’ve eaten hospital food for months until Leo brought me here. I felt justified in making it part of my treat every week.”
Addy rolled out her napkin and set it on her lap as the waiter took their drink orders and placed a basket of homemade bread with olive oil and seasonings on the table.
“I think Randy, the chef at the hospital, does a great job,” Addy said, tearing off a piece of the bread.
“He does, but you can only eat so much of hospital food, no matter how you slice it. I think it loses some of its appeal when it’s made in large batches,” he reasoned, helping himself to a piece.
“Oh my,” she said, chewing and covering her mouth with her hand. “I’ve forgotten how homemade bread tastes.”
“Did you make it?” he asked as he watched her tongue slide across her lip, catching the remaining oil.
“Yes, but it’s not fun to make for one person,” she said as the waiter set down their salads.
“My mom always made fresh sandwich bread. She hated buying it when she made it for much cheaper,” he said, peering at her while she soaked the bread again.
The waiter set down their meals. Addy leaned over, inhaling the scent of the garlic butter.
“I’m in heaven,” she said, sighing.
“Wait till you taste it,” he said, cutting a piece of steak and popping into his mouth.
“Good thing we’re not kissing because I’m swathing it in this butter,” she vowed as she picked up her knife. Realizing what she said, Addy turned beet red and covered her mouth. “I didn’t mean it the way it came out,” she said, sounding panicked. “I don’t want to kiss you. Oh, shit, I didn’t mean it the way it sounded. Damn, I already said that. You’re good-looking, and any woman would be lucky to catch your eye. Ah crap, now I’ve put my foot into it?—”
Liam grabbed her hand and squeezed it, catching her attention. She appeared as if she might go into seizures if she kept talking.
“Hey, I know what you meant. It’s all right,” he soothed.
“I’ve made this awkward…” she whispered, staring at her steak.
“Only if we let it,” he told her. “You made a harmless remark. No one’s judging you.”
“I don’t want to ruin our day. I’ve enjoyed your company. And this dinner tastes delicious,” she faltered.
“Addyson, look at me,” he ordered.
Her gaze traveled from his plate to his chest and then fluttered to his eyes. She blinked a couple of times, appearing almost ready to cry.
