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The ladies beam at him. Well, not all of them. Dahlia scowls.
"Where are you from?" Rose asks, smiling up at Luka.
"The beautiful country of Croatia."
Iris turns to Dane. "And you, dear? Where are you from?"
I wait for Dane to say he's from England since he has that British accent, and that's where he told me he was from when we met.
"Bulgaria," Dane replies.
Shocked, I jerk my head up and stare at him. I can't believe the guy lied to me…again.
Dane's eyes lock with mine, and his unspoken message is clear.Leave it alone. Don't say anything.
It's as if I can hear him saying it in my ear. I turn away and take a sip of my wine.
"Bulgaria? Well, isn't that interesting?" Iris leans back in her chair. She looks puzzled as she studies Dane. "I dated an Englishman years ago. He was a nice fellow and had a distinct accent. You have it too, although not nearly as strong. So how does a person from Bulgaria acquire a British accent?"
Dane seems to shift his weight as he stands there, and I can see him take a peek at Luka out of the corner of his eye. I have to give kudos to Iris for her question, which is more than valid and something I also wondered about as soon as he said he was Bulgarian. I arch an eyebrow at Dane, eagerly waiting for his answer.
"I was born and raised in Bulgaria but moved to England in my late teens. I managed to pick up the accent over the years."
"That certainly makes sense, dear," Iris says.
I'm surprised and stare at Dane. If he's Bulgarian, why the hell did he tell me he was British? Was it because that's where he currently lives, or was he simply using being British as part of his Brit and Britt joke? And why does he keep peeking at Luka? Is he worried about coughing up personal information in front of him? Maybe Dane's afraid it'll lead to some uncomfortable questioning. Either way, that's an odd way to act if Luka is a friend. Confused, I know only one thing for certain. And it's that something strange is going on.
"Croatia and Bulgaria are beautiful," Luka declares proudly. His observation seems to come out of nowhere. "You should visit if you've never been to them."
"That sounds lovely, dear," Iris says. "But only if you're my personal tour guide." She takes a sip of wine and pointedly licks her lips.
Dahlia hisses at her.
Luka grins as he turns away.
I'm sure I'd find Iris's brazen behavior more humorous if I didn't have Dane's questionable background consuming my thoughts. And now that Iris's inquiry supposedly put his nationality to rest, I think I'll solidify it with another question just to be sure.
With the sweetest voice I can muster, I ask, "Correct me if I'm wrong, but isn't Dane an English name?"
Dane's jaw twitches, and for a brief second, he almost looks cornered. He peeks over his shoulder at Luka, who is talking to a guest at the next table. Frowning, Dane swings his gaze back to me. "It is."
"Hmm. What made your parents choose an English name for you? Isn't that unusual since England and Bulgaria aren't exactly neighbors or connected in any way?" I ask.
Dane's eyes are piercing as he glares at me. "I have a relative named Dane, and my mother liked the name. My full name is Dane Yosif Petrov. So, there you go. I have a British first name, while my middle and last names are common in Bulgaria. Satisfied?"
"Yes," I whisper. I can feel the heat in my cheeks, my inquiry thoroughly beaten back.
"So, madam, now that we've cleared that up, what may I get for you this evening?" There's a hint of smugness in his tone, and he eyes me with a stony expression. "The ladies have already ordered."
"Oh, shoot. I need to look at the menu." I pick it up from the table and give it a quick scan. "I'll have the carrot ginger soup and the pesto chicken rigatoni."
"And for dessert?"
"You order all your courses at once, dear. It's standard practice," Iris says.
"Okay, in that case…hmm…I'll take the crème brûlée."
"Excellent, madam. Thank you." Dane takes the menu from my hand with an unexpectedly sharp tug, gives me a stiff bow, and walks away.
