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The waiter nodded. “Very well.”
Josh held up his hand. “He recommended the steak.”
No steak for me tonight. I couldn’t stomach so much red without being reminded of Baldy.
“I’d still rather have the salmon.”
This time the waiter turned to Josh first, exchanging one of those ‘guy’ looks. My jaw locked, but I pretended not to see it.
Josh waved the waiter away, as if magnanimously agreeing to my choice. I told myself that he was trying to be a good host, and I shouldn’t stab him with my fork.
For the next hour I listened to Josh talk about his major, followed by his love of wine. Apparently, he was quite the collector. By the time the food arrived, I was ready to feign an acute headache or message Elena to call me with a fake emergency.
This date was quickly turning into a date from hell. Or, at the least, one from purgatory.
It took the sommelier three attempts before Josh settled on a wine.
“That should do if it’s all you have,” he said, a pinched expression on his face.
Sensing the sommelier’s annoyance, I steered the conversation back to his studies. As expected, Josh quickly forgot about the offensive wine and continued his monologue about the subject he was most passionate about, which apparently was himself.
“How is your fish?”
Surprised he was asking me an actual question, I looked up. “It’s quite good.”
His lips pursed. “Just quite good? My steak is excellent. You should have gone for the steak.”
I should have gone for a noose. To tie around my neck for being an idiot to go out with him.
Apparently he wasn’t a total idiot, however, and picked up on some of my feelings and changed the subject. For the rest of the dinner he was back to his old charming self. So much so that I almost felt like I’d imagined his earlier assholeness and agreed to have another drink at his house. I refused to give up on this date just yet.
I followed him to his house, which was the last one on a cul-de-sac.
He went straight to the wet bar, and I realized coming to his place had been a mistake.
“What can I get you?”
“Just some water, please.” I hoped he wouldn’t open another bottle of wine. He’d already had two at the restaurant, basically emptying them on his own.
I put my purse onto the coffee table and took in my surroundings. I swallowed a groan when he took a bottle out of the fridge and two wineglasses. There was a crease between his brows, which he quickly removed when he saw me eying him.
“Don’t be like that,” he said.
I stiffened. “Like what?”
He opened the bottle and filled both glasses. “One of those women who pretends they don’t eat and drink when really they’re starving.”
His eyes lingered on my breasts as he sat next to me on the couch. The red liquid spilled over the rims of the glasses, though he didn’t seem to notice.
“One glass is my max, really.”
“Come on. You barely ate anything. I didn’t take you to a fancy restaurant so you could pick at your food. You should have at least tried their steak.”
Back to the damn steak again.
“I didn’t realize eating red meat was mandatory.”You douche.
“And now you refuse to drink?” He all but pushed the glass into my hand.
