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“You find them tedious and less personal, so I opted for a more intimate experience where you can have all your favorite dishes instead.”
I mentioned that several weeks ago and he still remembers it so well. Seriously, I’m starting to think he has an elephant’s memory.
In my internal musings, I nearly forgot I was staring. To which Landon smiles broadly with a perverse sense of satisfaction.
I clear my throat. “Why are you taking me on a date? It’s not like you believe in normal.”
“I don’t, but you do.”
“But—”
“Can you stop asking pointless questions and just eat? Look at what I cooked for you.”
My lips part and I pause before I grab the spoon. “You cooked these?”
“Of course.”
“Of course? Why are you saying that as if it’s a given? You never cooked before.”
“As I’ve mentioned countless times, I’m a fast learner. You’re welcome.”
I cast another glance at the food and then take a tentative sip from the soup. The rich taste explodes in my mouth like a home-cooked meal. Before I know it, I’m done with it.
I move to the pasta, and it tastes even better than the soup. The lamb is a knockout, but I choose to take my time with it, partly because I’m almost full and I want to savor what I’m eating.
A sudden breeze ruffles my hair and goosebumps erupt on my naked arms. For some reason, the sensation doesn’t seem to be entirely related to the cold. I lift my gaze, and my mouthful of food gets stuck at the back of my throat.
Landon, who I assumed was also eating, is not. His undivided attention is dangerously focused on me, head on his fist as he swirls the wine glass with his free hand.
I swallow the contents of my mouth with effort and slowly set my utensils on the table. “What do you want?”
“Should I want something?” he replies with disturbing nonchalance.
“You always do.”
“Hmm. Maybe you’re right and I do want something.”
“Which is?”
“To get my fill of you, which I’ve been doing spectacularly.”
The temperature rises in my chest and forms knots at the base of my belly. I try and fail to control the unconscious reaction as I sign, “You want me to believe that the great Landon King would settle for such a trivial thing?”
“I couldn’t believe it myself, but I also wouldn’t categorize it as trivial.”
“You mean to tell me you’re content with this very normal date and wouldn’t trade it with chasing or choking me?”
“What type of blasphemy is that? Of course I would. But, apparently, it’s better to go against my instinct in situations like these. I don’t really get the hype about emotions, but I’m trying.”
“Trying to what? Have them?”
“Nonsense.” His lips lift in clear disgust and he drowns it with a sip of wine. “I’m trying not to use my understanding of emotions in a destructive manner. At least, not with the people who matter.”
Thump.
Thump.
Thump.
