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“See, you know her.”
“So you like models better?”
“Easy access,” he shrugged.
Her eyes narrowed. Well, at least she wasn’t a model. And he was suddenly harsh, but he was tactless like that, she had nearly forgotten. “How come your sisters didn’t attend college here?”
He smiled as he dumped the pasta into the pan, drizzling it with olive oil again. “They love the beaches here, but prefer the educational system there.”
“How is your Aunt Vicky, by the way?” she interrupted him.
“She’s doing okay. She did message me, told me to say hello to you.”
“She did?” Mikaela smiled, happy she had been remembered.
He looked at her. “You look like you won a million dollars or something.”
“It’s nice to know I’m remembered.”
“Who would forget you?” he told her. “Aunt Vicky almost died and you expect her to forget you?”
“Well,” she shrugged, trying to find the right words to say without sounding needy. “Everyone was busy that day and she found the time to talk to me.”
“Because you gate-crashed?” he teased.
“Did I really?”
“You partially did that on purpose,” he said with an all-knowing smile. “You’re quite easy to read.”
“I am not.”
“Yes you are.”
“Fine, a little. All right, do you do any sports?” she asked as he took out black ceramic plates. She was glad she wore shorts, seeing it was a very casual date. They were eating by the kitchen on high stools and she liked it a lot.
He nodded. “A few. Used to play lacrosse at uni. I’ve surfed, too,” he said, remembering his sojourn a few days ago.
“You surf? Wow. I guess I’m just bad at that.”
“You’re a dancer, you’re good at dancing. I can’t dance to save my life, you know.”
“I can teach you.”
“You can do the waltz, too?” he asked.
She nodded. “I may teach hip-hop but I know the basics of the jive, foxtrot, and the waltz.”
He smiled at her as he handed her a plate with a heaping of pasta. “Hope you like this.” He also took out a decanter of white wine. “This is just in case,” he added and she laughed.
“Yeah, I’m sure I won’t be drinking too much of that.” She took her first bite and grinned at him. “This is restaurant quality.”
“What kind of restaurant? Indulge me.”
“Those star rated restaurants,” she said, trying to look for the right term.
“Did you mean Michelin star?”
“That one!”
