He shook his head, his cheeks reddening just slightly. “I delivered a baby.”
“You’re kidding me.”
The expression that came across his face reached all the way inside my chest and squeezed every tingle that was already pulsing.
“I was on a client’s private plane, and his wife went into labor shortly after takeoff.”
Finishing my piece of bread, I held my wine and said, “Tell me everything.”
“She was so far along that she wasn’t supposed to fly, except I didn’t know that. So, we weren’t even through the clouds, and her water broke.” His hand went to his beard, his grin not taming one bit. “While the pilot was trying to get us at an altitude where he could turn around, the baby started coming.”
“Was there a doctor on board?” When he laughed, I immediately knew the answer. “So, you played doctor.”
“That’s not a title I ever want again, but yes, that’s what happened, and I had no idea what I was doing.”
I held the glass against my chest after I sipped from it. “But you figured it out?”
He was laughing again. “There was a baby in her arms when we landed.”
“And you?”
He sighed. “Still trying to recover.”
“Oh my God.” I was laughing so hard; there were tears in my eyes. “I can picture it.”
He was soon making the same sound as me, and I couldn’t get enough of the noise.
I felt the same way about his face. The top of his cheeks, where there were no whiskers, was even more flushed than before, his eyes squinted, the lines in his forehead deeper than normal.
I liked funny Jared.
And we were still laughing when the waitress came to our table to drop off the escargot and croque monsieur.
He dipped a piece of his bread into one of the tiny bowls, scooping the snail on top of it. I watched it go in his mouth, and I imagined the butter and garlic, the thick texture of the meat.
“Good?”
“Delicious.” He reached forward again, this time with his fork and knife, and began to cut the fried sandwich. When it was in several slices, he picked up the end piece and bit off half. “Wow.”
“They make the best.” I took the other end in my hand and nibbled the corner. The butter was the first flavor that hit me, so rich that it made the rough bread crumble in my mouth. The sweet ham came next, layered with Gruyere, and both were just the right amount of softness that the entire combination needed.
It tasted so yummy that I would probably eat the whole piece.
The thought of that made me smile so hard. “You picked the perfect spot,” I said softly.
“It’s good to see you happy, Billie.” Before I could even process that comment, he continued, “Tell me about the best meal you’ve ever had.”
“I get asked this all the time, and I always say I can’t pick one.” I swallowed the rest of the sandwich and wiped my mouth. “But I do have a favorite. I just won’t share it with the public because it’s such a special place that I want it just for me.”
He looked up from his piece of bread, the chocolate of his eyes so dark when he gazed at me through his lashes. “You have to tell me.”
I smiled as I lifted my wineglass. “My best friend and I went to Venice, Italy, a few years ago. On the night we arrived, I asked the concierge where he would take his grandfather to eat dinner. For the record, I ask the same question at every hotel I stay at, and on average, the recommendations are usually superb. The concierge took out a piece of paper and drew me a map, and that restaurant turned out to be the best meal of my entire life.”
He had a piece of bread in his mouth when he said, “What did you have?”
“I don’t know.” I laughed as I realized how ridiculous that sounded. “There was no menu. There wasn’t even a sign outside, just an old, weathered pink door with a gold number nine in the center. There were only a few tables and one waiter, the interior authentic in every way. The waiter asked what color wine we wanted, and then the food started to come.” I took a drink from my glass, savoring the heaviness before swallowing. “It was course after course—risottos and pastas and meats. They were honestly indescribable, and this is coming from a girl who describes details for a living.”