I take a toast point and spread some of the tartare onto it with my fork. “Like this?”
“However you like.”
I take a bite. Flavor explodes on my tongue. “Oh, wow,” I say with my mouth full. The creaminess of the raw tuna mixes with the umami of the mayonnaise and the zing of the radish sprouts. I let it sit in my mouth for a few seconds before I chew and swallow. My tastes don’t usually have colors, but I get a warm brown from the appetizer. “That’s amazing. I’ve never had anything quite like it.”
“It’s a favorite of mine.” Then, just as he said he would, he takes a forkful of the tartare and closes his mouth around it.
He shuts his eyes for a moment before he swallows.
“You taste food the way I taste wine,” I say.
“Why wouldn’t I? I enjoy food just as much as I enjoy wine. Gourmet food like this has many different flavor profiles. But even comfort food can be enjoyed this way. Food is sustenance, but it’s also one of life’s luxurious pleasures. At least in my opinion.”
I can’t drag my gaze away as Dale takes another forkful of the tuna tartare, this time spreading it on a toast point. He brings it to his lips and takes a bite, pausing for a few seconds then swallowing and licking his lips.
My God. This is like watching porn.
I resist the urge to squirm in my chair, but already the flutter between my legs is nearly unbearable.
Just from watching Dale Steel eat.
And we have a whole dinner to go.
I help myself to another toast point with tuna tartare, make quick work of it, and then take a sip of the Cristal.
Wow. Dale and Idris were right. It complements the tuna tartare perfectly.
After I take another sip, I pick up my menu. Giselle will be back for our order soon. “What do you recommend?” I ask Dale.
“Nothing. This is a pretty new restaurant. I’ve never been here.”
Right. Stop acting like an idiot, Ashley. I knew that. Levi told me.
I shrug off my faux pas. “That’s right. I guess we’ll both go in blind, then.”
“I imagine any of the beef dishes will be acceptable. I checked the place out after I got the name. Guess who supplies the beef?”
“How many guesses do I get?” I smile flirtatiously.
“Of course it depends on the chef, as well,” he continues. “But I’ve heard nothing but good things about the chef here.”
“Since I’m living on your ranch, I’ll be eating a lot of Steel beef. Would it upset you if I ordered something else?”
He smiles. A smile! “Order whatever you’d like. In fact, why don’t you choose our dinner wine?”
“What about the Cristal?”
“It’s delicious, of course, and it goes perfectly with our appetizer. But I don’t plan to drink sparkling wine with my dinner. Do you?”
“I actually like sparkling wine with some things,” I say. “Lobster, for example. Chicken piccata. Any light fish.”
“What if I order a porterhouse?”
“I guess I just assumed… I mean, you ordered the champagne, so I figured you’d order an entrée that goes with it.”
“I meant for the champagne to be a cocktail.”
“But there’s half a bottle left.”
“So?”
“So it’s wasteful, Dale. This is an expensive bottle of wine, and I—”
“I didn’t say I was done,” he says. “But even if I am, it doesn’t matter to me.”
A warning siren sounds in my head. It’s so real and so loud that I have to stop myself from looking for it.
Dale’s background is so unlike my own.
“Your privilege is showing,” I say, looking back at my menu.
He scoffs, not meeting my gaze. “You don’t know who you’re talking to.”
“I don’t? I think I’m talking to a Steel heir. If that’s not privilege, I don’t know what—”
“Damn it,” he says through clenched teeth. “I wasn’t always a Steel heir, or have you forgotten?”
My mouth drops open.
“But you told me—”
I stop abruptly.
He told me he never went to bed hungry.
But that’s all I know. Plenty of other horrible things could have happened during his first ten years. Was he abused? Bullied? Beaten?
I don’t know.
So much I don’t know. What happened during those first ten years of Dale’s life?
What happened that made him who he is?
I want to know.
And with just as much yearning, I don’t want to know.
Because…
What if it’s bad?
What if it’s worse than living homeless and sometimes going to bed cold and hungry?
And if it’s worse than that…
It’s fucking horrible.
Chapter Forty-Four
Dale
I’m not usually wasteful. Waste disgusts me, to be honest. I could cork the Cristal and take the remainder home, but champagne isn’t like still wine. It doesn’t keep well even if recorked correctly.
If we each drink another flute, the bottle will be close to empty. Not overly wasteful. I drink a lot of wine. I’m used to it. It’s my business. I can drink four or five glasses and still be lucid enough to drive. Of course, I’m also a big guy.