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“Do you want me to challenge being called your boyfriend?”
“No.” She reached for her rolled silverware and removed the utensils from the napkin. “Would you introduce me as your girlfriend?” She focused on spreading her napkin over her lap, her eyes cast down so she didn’t have to see Will’s reaction to her question.
“What if I did?” he asked. “Would you raise your eyebrows?”
“Maybe a little,” she said, lifting her eyes back to his.
“And why’s that?”
She didn’t know how to articulate what she wanted to say. She couldn’t just blurt out that he better kiss her that night or she might not think he was really interested in her. He seemed to be. He kissed her cheek. Brought her flowers. Held her hand. Asked her questions about her life, her temporary cat, her daddy, her hobbies.
“I think I know why,” he said, glancing over to the nearest table, but the couple there seemed totally engrossed in their own conversation.
“Why?”
“Same reason I was a little surprised.”
“Because this is our second date?”
“Because I haven’t kissed you yet,” he said, just saying the words right out loud. How he did that, Gretchen would never know.
She blinked and somehow got her head to nod. “Yeah…that would be nice.”
Will’s eyes shone with playfulness. Or maybe something else. “Would it now?”
Gretchen shook her head and rolled her eyes. “Come on, William.”
He reached across the table, which held a cream-colored cloth, and covered her hands with both of his. “I like it when you call me William. Only my mama ever does that, and usually when I’m about to be in big trouble.” He grinned, which was so unfair to every woman within the vicinity of his charisma. “But when you say it, I feel like I might win the lottery.”
“I’m sure that’ll happen,” she said, teasing him. “Plus, I heard your sister call you William.”
“Yeah, and I was in trouble.”
Gretchen searched his face, catching movement just beyond him. Ingrid was about to go over the menu, and this conversation would die and another one reborn once they got their food. “The chances of winning the lottery are slim,” she said. “But what are my chances of getting that kiss tonight?”
Will’s eyes dropped to her mouth and rebounded back to her eyes. “I’d say high to very high. Maybe one hundred percent for-sure.” He glanced toward the back porch as a bell rang. “Of course, I suppose it depends on what’s on tonight’s menu.”
“Welcome, everyone, to The Culinary Cabin,” Ingrid started, her own strong personality exuding out into the night. “We’re thrilled to have you on the farm with us tonight. Our first course is French onion soup, made with a variety of sweet onions we grow plenty of here on the farm.”
Will groaned under his breath, and his eyes shone with a teasing light as he said, “French onion soup? Can’t kiss a woman after eating that…”
* * *
A couple of hours later,Gretchen leaned away from the plate of panna cotta. “I can’t eat another bite.”
“But there’s only one left,” Will said, still holding his dessert spoon in his hand.
Gretchen put hers down so she wouldn’t eat the last bite. “You have it.”
“I have all this pudding.” He glanced down at his glass cup, which was almost empty. She couldn’t wait to taste the chocolate on his mouth, and her chest heated with the very idea of kissing him that night. She’d been thinking about it all through the meal, and she wondered if he had too.
After the French onion soup, they’d been served bacon-wrapped sirloin steak, mashed purple sweet potatoes, and the cutest, smallest Brussels sprouts Gretchen had ever seen. Dessert was chocolate pudding and shortbread or a lemon-raspberry panna cotta. They’d opted to get different desserts and share, but she’d only taken one bite of the rich, dark pudding.
Will scooped up the last of the panna cotta and put it in his mouth. “I do like this,” he said. “It’s very tart.”
“Refreshing,” Gretchen said.
“My mama loves sour stuff,” he said. “She’d love this.”
