Home > As Long As You Love Me (2B Trilogy #2)(21)

As Long As You Love Me (2B Trilogy #2)(21)
Author: Ann Aguirre

“I guess you have to wait and see.”

“Now that’s just cruel,” I mumbled. “I thought you were a nice guy, Rob.”

“Nobody’s good all the way to the bone. You know that.” He angled the truck back through Sharon, but instead of heading for my place, he turned toward the small downtown.

“Where are we going?”

“You look too pretty for us to go straight home.” His voice was matter-of-fact, and that made me appreciate the compliment even more. “I thought I’d buy you lunch, unless that’s not okay for some reason?”

Come to think of it, I’d been too nervous about the interview for breakfast, and it was past two. “No plans, except for helping this guy fix up his house later.”

“Does that loser ever take you anywhere nice? Or is it work, work, work, all the time?”

“We’ll see,” I said with what I hoped was a mysterious smile. “And he’s not a loser.”

To my astonishment, he parked at the Grove, the swankiest place in town. The restaurant was situated at the back of a wooded drive, hence the name. Like twenty years ago, the owners bought an old Victorian and restored it completely. Downstairs, it was gorgeous—I knew girls who went there before prom—and upstairs, there were six bedrooms available for romantic weekends. Apparently the place did fairly well, despite the obscure location.

As usual, Rob was in jeans and flannel, but I doubted they’d say anything during lunch. If they did, I didn’t want to eat here anyway. The hostess proved me right with a broad smile, leading us to a corner table nestled in front of the windows, where we had a beautiful view of the wintry garden—very postcard picturesque with the trees iced over and snow piled up.

“Have you been here before?” Rob asked.

I shook my head. “To be honest, I didn’t date much before I went away to school.”

Realization spilled over me like hot coffee. Shit. Now he thinks I think this is a date. Is this a date? Should it be, so soon after his breakup? Sweat broke out between my shoulder blades, and I feared taking off my jacket. Between the white blouse and the job interview, I was probably a puddle of perspiration swaddled in librarian clothes.

It occurred to me that being his rebound girl might not be the best idea, but I couldn’t bring myself to object. There are exceptions to every rule, right? And part of me felt like it would be better to get a few weeks with Rob than nothing at all.

No reason to freak out. It’s just lunch.

“Too picky for the local talent?” he guessed.

I laughed. “Sure, let’s say that.”

Before he could ask, the waiter came over to fill our water glasses and deliver menus. There was no possible way I could’ve been more relieved. I took refuge behind my menu, trying to decide what to order. The Grove did food like mushroom risotto, grilled salmon, fried quail, beef tartare, chicken confit and potato gnocchi. To start, they had cheese-and-fruit plates, ceviche and chickpea hummus, along with various soups and salads. There were no prices listed, which made me nervous, especially since I’d just helped Rob make a budget. Yet my eyes still went straight to the dessert menu, where I proceeded to salivate over butterscotch caramel pudding, salted dark chocolate fudge and honey pistachio cake.

“Do you know what you’re having?”

“I think so. You?”

He nodded, lifting a hand for the waiter with a confidence that was both surprising and hot. “We’re ready to order. The lady first, please.”

“The squash soup to start, followed by the shrimp and grits.”

“Anything to drink?”

“Just water, thanks.” While Rob wouldn’t thank me for thinking of his wallet, I figured this should deduct three or four bucks from the bill.

“And for you, sir?”

“I’ll have the warm vegetable salad and the smoked pork tenderloin. Water for me, too.”

The waiter used an iPad to tap in our food choices. “I’m sending this to the kitchen right now. While you wait, I’ll bring you some homemade bread and herbed butter.”

“That sounds incredible. Am I drooling?” I wiped the corner of my mouth, only half pretending. “I was too uptight to eat anything this morning.”

“Is that normal?” He didn’t sound like he was judging me, only curious.

“Before I meet new people or go into some new situation? Unfortunately, yeah. Before I learned better coping mechanisms, I used to throw up a lot. Not eating is preferable.”

“I’d say so.”

“Once I survive the ordeal, I eat everything in sight. I call this relief feasting. I also suspect the skipping of meals and then eating like a Roman senator is why I can’t shake the extra weight.” Not that I was trying, honestly. Fiddling with my laptop, eating whatever was easiest and avoiding workouts didn’t exactly qualify as healthy. That said, the renovations at Rob’s house were definitely making me stronger.

“Huh?”

Oh, crap. Now he probably thinks I’m fishing for a compliment. There was no way this would sound anything but clumsy. “I need to lose about twenty pounds.”

Okay, thirty, if you listen to certain stupid weight charts.

“In what world?” He scowled openly, dark brows drawn together. “You’d lose all the oomph and most of your bam.”

A giggle slipped out before I could stop it. I hadn’t made that noise since I was thirteen and Rob offered me a ride home. “Tell me, is the oomph up front or is that the bam?”

He grinned, the broadest smile I’d ever seen from him. Oh, my God, he has a dimple. “It’s your body. By now, you should know all about your oomph and bam. I shouldn’t have to explain these things to you.”

Green light means go. Time to flirt like I mean it.

“Then I guess I’ll have to go home and practice in the mirror until I work it out.”

His eyes blazed like there was light shining behind him, but the waiter came back with a bread basket and tiny crocks of butter. Too bad, I wanted to hear how he’d have replied. He had himself under control by the time the guy walked away, but there was a new focus to his gaze, and the intensity of it sent a shiver through me.

For a few seconds, the table was silent except for his drumming fingers, muffled by the fine linen. “I have to ask...are you winding me up? Because I’m here, you need an ego boost, you’re lonely or—”

“No,” I cut in. “I wouldn’t do that to anyone, but definitely never to you.”

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