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I pretend to think about it. “Hmm. Would princesses and unicorns have anything to do with it?”
She clicks her fingers before pointing at me. “Got it in one.” Laughing softly, she leans forward more, her hand coming to rest on top of the table. “Has Tris told you it’s fancy dress?”
“It’s a costume party?” She smirks and nods her head. “What’s the theme?”
She raises a brow. “You’re really going to ask that?”
“Will I need to wear pink?”
“Quite possibly,” she answers with a serious expression on her face.
“I guess I’m manly enough to get away with it.”
“You’ll make a very manly princess, that’s for sure.” She giggles. “But it’s probably best you come as a prince.” Her gaze rakes over my chest. “Maybe I should help you pick your costume?”
I lean toward her. “Are you insinuating I can’t dress myself, Miss Rivers?”
My eyes drift down to her bottom lip as she sinks her teeth into it before she says, “Me? Never. I can’t dress myself half of the time.”
“Coulda fooled me,” I retort, raking my gaze up her body. “That’s one hell of a jumpsuit.”
Her hands drift to her collarbone as she skims over the edge of the mesh insert, instantly drawing my eyes to her chest. “You can thank Charlotte for this ensemble.”
I push my chair back, needing to check on the lamb. “Well thank you, Charlotte. Excuse me a minute, I need to check on the food.”
She nods but I don’t miss the way her eyes dart to my ass as I turn around. I smile to myself: she was totally checking me out.
Amelia sets her knife and fork down as I take another pull on my beer, resting her hand on her stomach as she groans. “I’m so full, I don’t think I can eat another bite.”
“Not even dessert?” I raise a brow and she sighs with a humored look on her face.
“I guess I could be persuaded. What have you got for me?”
I put up a finger as I take our plates away and set out the dessert I prepared earlier—or should I say: laid out.
Setting it in front of her, she raises a brow when I sit down, staring at her plate. “I thought you said you couldn’t bake?”
I chuckle: she doesn't miss a beat. “I didn’t lie about that. Unfortunately our tart was made by a bakery in town, but the ice cream is homemade.”
It’s the best damn bakery I’ve ever eaten from though so I know it’ll be up to par.
“I could have made dessert and brought it with me.” She takes a bite of the lemon tart.
I shrug. “I don’t think asking my date to bring her own dessert is very romantic.”
“Yeah, I suppose.” She scoops the ice cream onto her spoon and I watch her, waiting for her verdict. “Perfect.”
Satisfied she’s happy with my pick of dessert, I tuck into mine and end up finishing before she does.
“So…” She starts, picking up the glass of water I brought her after eating the main course. “You’re a man of many talents. Surfing… cooking... Do you do everything to an extreme level of awesomeness?”
“Always,” I deadpan, trying to convey intensity in my eyes before clearing my throat. “But what about you? What do you do for fun apart from binge-watching Netflix and baking?”
She contemplates my question, biting her bottom lip and looking away from me deep in thought.
“I collect vinyl records,” she eventually says. “I love listening to them and finding the ones that have been well-used.” She turns her gaze back toward me with passion in her eyes. “I always search for the well-loved ones, the ones that have frayed edges and maybe even a couple of scratches on them, because those are the ones that have been listened to countless times. Sometimes I close my eyes as I listen to them, imagining what people did ten, twenty, fifty years ago as they listened to the same song from the same record.”
I’m entranced by the way she talks about them; she speaks with such passion I can’t help but wonder what else she’s passionate about.
