“As well as I can. Your usual piece?”
He nods, a lock of hair falling over his forehead, and it’s cute—this buttoned-up, cardigan-wearing man looking somewhat disheveled. I wonder if his hair’s as soft as it looks. What it would feel like if I ran my hands through it.
“And what would you like?”
I jump. “What?”
“To eat,” Erin says. She glances between us, her mouth raised in a slight smirk. She clearly didn’t miss my ogling.
“Uhh.” I haven’t seen a menu anywhere. “I’ll get the same as him.”
“Same drink too?”
“Sure.”
When she steps away, I find the man watching me, his forehead slightly creased.
“You don’t even know what I’m getting,” he says.
“Doesn’t matter. I’m not a picky eater.”
“Really? So, if my usual order was haggis, then—”
“I’ll be eating haggis.” I shrug. “It wouldn’t be the first time.”
He huffs out a breath at that, something bordering a noise of amusement. “So, you’re adventurous.”
“I guess?” I pause. “I mean, I think I am, but not because of this. I don’t exactly consider trying local cuisine to be all that adventurous. It’s just food.”
“Just food?” he repeats skeptically.
“Yeah. And when it comes to the more, uh, unique dishes around the world, haggis isn’t all that abnormal. The only thing I have a hard time with is insects.”
He smiles uncertainly. “Like when you see them around the house?”
“No, I mean I have a hard time eating them.”
His mouth parts, and surprise lights his eyes.
“It’s more of a mental block,” I say. “But I’ve worked through it before. Honestly, they’re not that bad once you get past the crunch.”
He shudders, and it makes me want to laugh.
“I don’t think I could do it,” he says. “I know it’s good for the environment and all. I’ve read those articles, but…eating something like thatwouldbe adventurous for me. I’ve never even had haggis.”
“What?”
He winces. “I know. Embarrassing for someone from here, but it wasn’t like haggis was something I grew up eating at home.”
“But you never wanted to try it?”
“Never. In fact, when you see what I’m having for dinner, you’ll realize just how unadventurous I am.”
“Hmm.” I look him over. My “Brains” assessment from earlier seems to have been correct. He’s a homebody, introverted,intellectual. But I still have the sense that there’s something beneath all of that. Some hidden talent or interest. I just don’t know what it is yet.
When my eyes meet his, I realize he’s watching me watch him, a slightly quizzical expression on his face.
Erin returns a moment later, setting two pint glasses filled with amber liquid in front of us. I take a cautious sip, and then a longer one once I taste it. Malt and caramel and something bright. Overall, it’s a little bitter, but not in a bad way.
