When Liam arrives just after closing, he has two bags from Dean’s Diner.
“Monte Cristo?” I ask him as I close the door behind him and lock it.
“Why would you go to Dean’s and order anything else but the Monte Cristo?” he says with a wink that I feel in my toes.
“You wouldn’t.” I narrow my eyes. “You’re not going to bring dinner every night are you?”
“Is there a wrong answer in this scenario?” he throws over his shoulder as he unpacks everything on the same table from last night and sinks into his chair. I already think of it as his, probably because he lounges in it like a pro, somewhat lazily and rumpled, which is a look that I’m here to tell you works on Liam MacLellan.
Except none of that sexiness is for me. It just drips from him naturally. “Let me get it tomorrow night. I already owe you for last night.”
“I heard that this is a date. There is zero chance I will let you pay for dinner on a first date, so don’t bother arguing.”
I did use that word. This is all on me. And now I don’t know what to do with my hands again. “Maybe date was the wrong thing to call it. Let’s go with coaching session. That’s much less formal and prone to giving anyone the wrong idea.”
Like me. I’m the one with the wrong idea because all at once, I get a little giddy at the thought of being on a real date with Liam. The man knows how to dazzle me, that’s for sure. Who would have thought the way to woman’s heart is through her stomach? Someone has been getting it wrong all this time.
But Liam shakes his head. “No dice. Can’t change the horse mid-stream, Tab. Eat your sandwich before it gets cold. I got you extra raspberry jam.”
I roll my eyes to cover how thrilling it is for a man to pay this much attention to details about me. “Lyra is so dead for telling you how much I like extra jam.”
Liam meets my gaze and tilts his head. “I didn’t have to ask her. You talked about Dean’s Monte Cristo at Thanksgiving.”
Four years ago. The reality of that has me whumping into my chair so I can follow the directions given to eat since without them, I’d still be standing there goggling. Do all men remember random table comments their sister’s friend makes?
