Connor leans down and kisses me. “I thought we could stay in and just relax tonight. Is that okay?”
An evening alone with Connor where I don’t have to watch other women fawn over him or compare myself to everyone around me? Yes please!
I smile. “Sounds perfect.”
The waiter from the restaurant downstairs rolls a trolley to the table by the window, gives us a small nod and retreats.
“There’s enough food here for ten people!”
We’ve changed into a set each of Connor’s joggers and a T-shirt, and there’s an old sitcom playing on the TV.
“I wanted you to have options,” Connor says as he inspects the dishes under the cloches.
I look at him with mock disapproval. “That’s what menus are for.”
He smiles, pulling out a chair for me. “Stop complaining and come and sit down.”
Once I’m seated, with a cloth napkin on my knee, Connor pours me a glass of wine and starts to dish out the food. I sip my wine while he fixes me a plate of what seems to be a bit of every dish the kitchen offers.
“I can’t eat all of that,” I groan as he sets a plate piled high with delicious-smelling food in front of me.
He shrugs as he starts on his own plate. “You don’t have to. Just eat as much or as little as you want.”
There are five different dishes on my plate. Five of my favourite foods, now I come to think of it, none of which are remotely diet-safe. I reach for a spring roll, while Connor settles down with his own food. He’s decided to just have a tiny bit of everything.
“Now that we’re sorted, I think it’s time I collect on our bet,” Connor says before ripping into a chicken wing.
“What bet?” I absently brush some rogue pastry from my T-shirt.
“The Adventures of Sid the Seagull?” Connor laughs. “We bet on his stealth, and I won. Now I get to ask you anything and youhave to answer honestly.”
“Shit,” I sigh, dropping the remaining half of my spring roll onto my plate.
“Got something to hide from me?” Connor asks, his eyebrow lifting in amusement.
“No,” I answer quickly. “It’s not that at all. I just hate talking about myself.”
Connor licks the barbeque sauce from his fingers, then wipes them on his napkin. “How about this. I only ask you three questions, and you can ask me three back so the focus isn’t all on you.”
I suppose three questions isn’t unreasonable. I give him a reluctant nod, pick the spring roll back up and throw it into my mouth. I’m going to need all my energy for this.
“Good.” Connor smiles.
I love his smile. It’s warm and genuine and makes him look even more handsome. I can’t help but smile back, despite my heart racing in my chest.
“Ladies first.” He picks up another chicken wing.
I wish he’d move on to something else – seeing him lick his fingers is ridiculously distracting.
“Okay.” I take a minute to choose my questions carefully. Though I have no doubt that Connor would honestly answer anything I asked, any time, I want to make this conversation worthwhile. “Tell me about you and the baby deer.”
“Bambi?” Connor doesn’t look remotely surprised by my first choice of question and answers matter-of-factly. “She’s Andy’s sister. He took her on here when he bought the place because she couldn’t hold down a job anywhere else. We had one drunken hook-up years ago. That’s it.”
He casually wipes his hands on a napkin and moves on to his burger. He sounds dismissive about the entire subject, as if it didn’t mean anything to him. I have a feeling Bambi feelsdifferently.
“Oh, and Bambi isn’t her real name, by the way.”
I laugh. “Thank God.” As a teacher, I’ve met many poor souls who are stuck with idiotic names thanks to their parents, but thankfully never a Bambi.
