AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Cat got your tongue, darling?” The devilish smirk on his face was icing on the cake of my arousal.
“Hmm, something like that.” I turned my gaze from him, focusing on finishing my dinner.
“So, tell me something.”
“Like what?” I asked.
“Tell me something completely random. Something people may not know about you.”
“I have no idea what I’d even say.” I shrugged, caught off guard by his question.
“Okay, I’ll go first then. I am addicted to rom-coms.”
“Rom-coms? Really?” I asked, utterly surprised.
“Is it that surprising?” He said with a short laugh.
“Absolutely. I had you pegged as an action guy.”
“First of all, you pegged me a few weeks ago. And I’m definitely not opposed to some action,” he replied with a flirtatious wink.
“I’m doubling down. You’re definitely incorrigible.”
“Okay, well, it’s your turn.”
“Let’s see,” I said, wiping my mouth with my napkin and settling it, and my hands, in my lap. “I suck at crafts.”
“Really? Interesting. I had you down for a total Betty Homemaker. Crafting, baking, the works.”
“Oh, I bake. I bake wonderfully. But I can’t craft to save my life.”
“I can sew, actually. Not the greatest, but enough to repair my shirts when I lose a button or something like that.”
“You’re quite the man of mystery, Thatcher,” I said with a laugh.
“It’s your turn again.” He finished the last bite of his food as I thought about what else I could reveal to him.
“I get ravenous for a good, greasy cheeseburger.” I admitted with a shrug.
“Why, Sadie! How indelicate of you!” He mimed clutching pearls in mock horror, making me giggle.
“I’m serious!” I smacked his shoulder playfully. “And I’m not talking about a homemade burger. I’m talking about a greasy, diner, drip-on-your-fingers-as-you-eat-it kind of burger. Melty cheese, grilled onions. Yes, fucking please.”
“Well then, why the hell are we at this nice Italian place? We can leave now and find a good diner and pig out!” He gestured to the door with his thumb over his shoulder as we both laughed.
“Are you kidding me? I’m already ninety percent stuffed!”
“Only ninety percent?”
“Well, you have to leave room for dessert, of course.”
“That is a very fair point. Are you a dessert girl, then?” he asked.
“Um, hello. I’m a baker. I’m atotaldessert girl. Pies, cakes, brûlée, soufflé. You name it, I’m here for it.” I couldn’t help laughing. It was easy with him. Far easier than I had imagined. I realized while we had shared an intimacy unlike many ever could, we really knew very little about one another. That was something I wanted to change.
“I hate dessert.” I looked at him, once again slack jawed, this time in shock.
“You couldn’t possibly!”
