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“Because you get so huffy, and I love it,” she throws back, nudging me with her foot again. Her smile is so bright it could blind the whole damn room. “Here, I’ll trade you. You think of me as a little tiger? Fine. I think you’re a moose.”
“How elegant.” I snort.
“No, hear me out. For one, you’re big and scary. Temperamental. Protective. Maybe a little dangerous.”
I blink.
If my face was hot before, it’s on fire now.
I’ve never had a girl tell me what she likes about me so openly and matter-of-factly. It makes it harder to remember that this isn’t serious.
That I shouldn’t be getting attached, or even enjoying the way this hellion teases me.
Grumbling, I look away, watching the slowly rotating view instead. “You really have to know? A bunny,” I snarl. “Only once. Once.”
I hold up my pointer finger.
“Oh my God! You are so cute.” She snickers. “When? When was I a bunny?”
“The morning I came to your house and you made me eat muffins before you’d even speak to me,” I force out. “You were in that fluffy robe, and you kept twitching your nose.”
At this point, I think she’s going to pass out from laughing.
I’m certainly going to crawl under this table and die.
Yet there’s a bizarre pleasure in this banter too.
In being able to delight her, even if it comes at the cost of my own pride.
Again, I’m saved by the world’s happiest waiter, even if not five minutes ago I was happy to see his back. He shows up at our table like he’s just materialized from nowhere, and Elle jumps with a little squeak.
The waiter grins like he’s used to that reaction.
“Glad to see the happy couple are already enjoying themselves!” His gaze drops to the engagement ring on her finger. Elle lowers her eyes with a blush and a smile, looking away—the perfect picture of the newly engaged beauty. “Have you decided what you’d like to order?”
“Oh, we haven’t even looked at the menus,” Elle says. “Sorry.” She flips hers open, frowning and biting her lip as she scans it. “Wow. Oh, wow. I wouldn’t even know what to get.”
She looks dismayed.
And I can read between the lines.
She’s actually worried about the prices.
“Elle, let me order for you,” I say, hoping to smooth away her discomfort. “I’ve been here before. I know a few dishes I think you’ll like. You like rich and savory, yes? High protein would be better for you.”
Elle flashes me a startled look, then nods. “I—yes. Please.”
“We’ll share the charcuterie board,” I tell the waiter. “For her, the Wagyu sliders, truffle fries, and marinated olives. I’ll have the foie gras and the arancini. Elle, are you good with sharing a bottle of sparkling rosé? The lighter flavor should complement the food.”
“Y-yes.” Pure deer-in-headlights look, yet she manages to make that look cute. With a flustered smile, she closes her menu. “That all sounds great!”
The waiter was scribbling everything down on a pad, but now he leans toward Elle with a very loud conspiratorial whisper: “He knows what you like. That’s a keeper.”
Right when she’d been picking up her ice water to take a drink.
Elle sputters, trying not to choke while the waiter winks and swirls away with a “Be right baaack!”
“Well,” I mutter, glancing after him. “That was obnoxious. You all right?”
