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I had no plans on seeing her again after today, but I never backed down from a challenge. “You’re on.”
About an hour later, we had finally found a parking spot and were seated in the diner. It didn’t take long for me to see what Lindsay was talking about. I ordered the surf and turf dinner, which arrived on a platter instead of a plate. Lindsay seemed to have cheated with her modest order of chowder and clam cakes.
“You really need to try one of these,” she said, holding a clam cake up in front of my mouth.
It was a more intimate gesture than I expected, but I took a bite, fighting the temptation to gently nip her finger.
“Delicious, isn’t it?” she asked.
Did she really think I tasted anything? All I knew was that her sweet fingers had been just a nibble away. “Yes.”
“They put chorizo in it. It’s a Portuguese recipe. I bet you’ve never tasted anything like it before.”
“Maybe I need another bite to form an opinion,” I said. She lifted the remaining piece of clam cake but this time she held it directly between her thumb and finger. There was no taking it from her without making contact. I could use my hands, but what fun would that be? You said I should loosen up. How’s this for an old grump? I opened my mouth and took the morsel and her fingertips inside. Her eyes were on my lips and with the tip of my tongue, I traced them. The sexual tension between us was unbearable. I didn’t give a fuck if anyone in the restaurant was watching. I wanted her, and if Lindsay didn’t know it before, she did now. When she pulled her hand away, not breaking eye contact, I added in a husky tone, “Definitely finger-licking good.”
Lindsay blushed slightly, but then grinned and said, “I win.”
“Win?” She pointed down at her empty bowl. I had eaten her last clam cake. “So I see. But you haven’t had dessert yet, so technically, the meal’s not over.”
Lindsay called over the waitress, who asked, “Ready for dessert, Lindsay?” I wanted to get the hell out of here and go someplace private where I can taste a lot more than just her fingertips. But instead, Lindsay nodded her response. “The usual?” the waitress asked.
“Make it a double scoop, two spoons please,” Lindsay said. The waitress walked away and said to me, “Better get eating.”
“What did you order? An ice cream sundae?”
She shook her head. “A piece of death-by-chocolate cake with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, chopped nuts, and a hot fudge drizzle.”
“And you’re going to eat all that?”
“I was thinking we’d share, but on the other hand, would you rather make it double or nothing?”
“You mean if you can eat that entire dessert before I finish my meal you get to plan the next two dates?” I asked. She nodded as the waitress brought over a dessert meant for us to share. With a grin I said, “You’re on.”
Lindsay picked up her spoon and smiling she said, “Get ready to lose.”
No matter what the outcome, I had a feeling she was setting me up to win because it meant I would be seeing her again. If beating was the only way for us to make that happen without either of us admitting we liked each other, then so be it.
I picked up my fork and knife and cut a huge piece of my steak. “I’m thinking we take in a show at the theater.”
Lindsay scooped up an equally large piece of cake and said, “I’m thinking we take a hike at Purgatory Chasm.”
“Never heard of it,” I said.
“You will, when I win,” she said, taking another bite. I could’ve easily beaten her, but a few minutes later I placed my napkin on my half-full plate and said, “I concede.”
She held up her fork with a piece of cake and said, “If I finish this all by myself, I’ll never fit through Fat Man’s Misery.”
“Should I ask what that is?”
“It’s a narrow part of the chasm between two cliffs.”
I picked up my fork, and even though I had no interest in eating the cake, I took a hefty bite.
“Guess if we’re going to get stuck, might as well be stuck together,” I teased, and helped her finish her dessert.
