“It’s just a fine dining thing. Oh shit.”
Surprised by the sudden change in his tone, I look at him. “What’s wrong?”
“I never asked if you like lobster.”
“You’re right. You didn’t.”
He waits for me to continue. When I don’t, he raises his brows. “Well?”
“I’m allergic, actually. Deathly allergic. I break out in hideous hives.”
When I spear a succulent chunk of lobster and dip it into the little pot of melted butter, then pop it into my mouth, his expression sours.
“Smartass.”
“Guilty. Oh God, this is even better than the dumplings!”
He looks at the glob of butter I feel dripping down my chin and licks his lips.
“Make sure to save some of that butter.”
“Why?”
He smiles. “I’ll need it for later.”
“You planning on having toast for dessert?”
“I’m planning on having you for dessert
