“How did you know I’d come with you?”
“I didn’t. But if you were busy and couldn’t come, I would’ve come alone.” He shrugs. “Even faced with the harsh reality of a life-ending rejection, I still gotta eat.”
I snort a laugh at his dramatic tone. And to be honest, it’s a good thing he has a reservation. The place is packed.
“What’s the deal? Are the burgers here that good?” I ask after we’re seated.
“Their non-meat burgers are supposed to be good. Want to try one?”
“Non-meat? Like veggie burgers?” I try to hide my wince. Maybe this place has great fries and milkshakes.
“You don’t like the sound of it?”
“I had one once in the college cafeteria. Let’s just say I’m not interested in experiencing that culinary horror ever again.”
He laughs. “Oh, come on. I’d never treat you to college food. Not even I could stomach most of it. The vegetarian burgers here are supposed to look and taste like real beef.”
“Really?” I remember hearing something about some magical fake meat, but I didn’t pay much attention. Let’s just say I like my meat…well, meat.
“I have a friend who wants me to invest in distribution and maybe opening more restaurants. I told him I’d think about it after trying the food myself. Then I thought, why not get a second opinion?”
“Oh.” I’ve never been asked to advise on a new restaurant venture, especially in a non-number capacity. It’s sort of cool and exciting.
“So you see,” he says slowly, as a winsome smile spreads across his face, “this isn’t really a date.”
I laugh at his ridiculously self-serving loophole, torn between being flattered and exasperated. “Oh, really?”
“Absolutely. It’s market research.”
A server interrupts us, and we order the not-meat burgers and fries. The menu proudly declares if we don’t like them, we can send ’em back and get something else. I also get spicy curly fries and sparkling water. Court gets the steak fries and a large Coke with extra ice in another cup. It reminds me of the way he declared it a cure-all for stomach issues in Hawaii and tried to take care of me in his own way.
He really is great boyfriend material, my mind whispers.
Yes, I know.
You should just forget the promotion junk. Good men are rarer than a Vulcan with a sense of humor.
I know that too, but… I just can’t let go of the promotion or my wish to become somebody, to be recognized at work.
When the server’s gone, I prop my chin in my hand. “So if this is research, then what are the flowers for?”
“Because you’re beautiful. And for that cherry pie. I really liked it. I was hoping you could bake me another.”
The look he shoots me is entirely too full of hope. And too adorable for me to reject. “Aren’t you a billionaire?”
He shrugs, like it isn’t that important. “Yeah.”
“So don’t you have an army of people baking you whatever you want?”
The light in his gaze dims a few watts. “Yeah. Back home. But it’s not the same.”
“The food in Louisiana isn’t good? Really?” I heard from Curie, who’s been to New Orleans twice, that the food there is enough to make you consider giving up a kidney…and a bikini body forever.
“Of course it’s good. Just not the same.”
I remember his enthusiasm over the home-cooked meal Mom made. She’s an amazing cook, but it sounded like he hadn’t had anything like that in…forever.
The coldness in his mom’s gaze pops into my head. If that is how she is normally, I can’t see her puttering around in the kitchen.