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“We took the liberty of selecting a bottle of 1992 Screaming Eagle’s cabernet, as we know it’s your favorite.” The server showcases the bottle, ensuring I’m pleased with his choice.
“Wonderful.” I gesture for him to proceed, and he swiftly uncorks the fine wine with practiced ease.
Then he pours it into a decanter—one of the reasons I appreciate this restaurant so highly. They treat their expensive wine the way it ought to be.
“We’ll also take an order of the oysters,” I inform him.
“Very good, sir.” Our server gives a slight bow and departs.
“So... you’ve been here a few times?” Heidi guesses, her tone cheeky.
I chuckle. “A few,” I agree. “My family owns this establishment, and I find it’s a wonderful way to... unwind.”
Heidi’s cheeks color as she looks around the room with fresh eyes. “You own all this?”
“We own many restaurants, several in Caramel. And yes, we happen to own this one.”
Heidi releases a low whistle. “Color me impressed.”
Silence falls between us once more as her eyes revert back to the menu. “So, what’s good here, Mr. Federov?” she asks teasingly as she adopts the same professional tone with which the staff have addressed me.
“I would highly recommend the lamb.”
“Mmm.”
Her nod of acknowledgment is just cheeky enough that I could spank her for it, and I just might do that later tonight. But her eyes flash back to the menu to read about my suggestion, so she doesn’t quite catch the subtle warning look.
“Your oysters,” the server states a moment later as he arrives to set the tray of oysters on the half-shell in the center of the table. “And some champagne to accompany them.”
A sparkling flute is set before each of us, and as soon as the waiter departs, Heidi raises hers in a toast. “To a beautiful night.”
“Tvoyey krasote.”
“So, is this something you do with girls?” she asks, her lips curling into a smile before she takes a delicate sip of champagne.
“Dinner?” I ask, preparing an oyster.
“Yes. Dinner.”
“Sometimes,” I admit. “Just because I don’t do relationships doesn’t mean I don’t enjoy dating.”
“Really?” Heidi looks baffled. “I always thought that dating was the worst part about relationships, going out to eat with random people until you find the right one.”
“And then what? You stop going out to eat with them once you are sure you enjoy it?” I tease, arching an eyebrow.
Heidi laughs, her face flushing. “Well, when you put it that way...”
“I believe a married couple should date as often, if not more than, the single man. How else can you keep the spark alive?”
“You know, for someone who doesn’t do romance, you certainly seem to have romantic notions.”
I know it’s meant to be playful, but something about Heidi’s observation gets under my skin. “I never said I don’t do romance. That is very different from commitment.”
Swallowing her oyster, Heidi falls silent, her warm hazel eyes studying me with unnerving perception. “It’s too bad you quit the idea of love. I bet you would have made someone very lucky.”
“Or dead,” I point out flatly.
Her face falls, and I almost feel bad for being so cynical. Twice in a day, I find my conscience coming out unexpectedly, an urge to be a better person, and I wonder if that might not be a bit of Heidi rubbing off on me.
