11
977 Words
“Gotta go. Thanks for checking to make sure I wasn’t murdered.”
Snickering, she says, “Not yet, anyway. If you’re lucky, that stud will murder you with his giant, throbbing—”
I hang up before she can finish and shove the cell back into my purse.
“What an interesting friend you have,” says Callum, his mild tone underscored with amusement.
“Yeah, she’s a keeper. I wonder if your police chief buddy can get me off on felony charges?”
“Why’s that?”
“Because I’m going to kill her later.”
A waiter arrives, bearing a tray of food. Behind him follows Sophie holding two wineglasses filled with golden liquid.
“Good afternoon, sir,” says the waiter to Callum, setting a platter in the middle of the table. “Kumamoto oysters on ice and Hudson Valley foie gras with fig compote.”
He doesn’t glance in my direction or acknowledge me in any way. It feels purposeful, but is probably only my imagination. Then he gives Callum a slight bow and retreats without another word.
Sophie sets both wineglasses on the table to Callum’s right. He hands her his whiskey glass and says, “The Pellegrino?”
She looks stricken. “Oh, my goodness. I’m so sorry, sir! I’ll be right back.”
Bemused, I watch her run away as if being chased by wolves. “Why is that poor girl so terrified of you? Does she think you’ll beat her if she screws up your order?”
I can tell he finds something about that question extremely funny, but doesn’t allow himself to show it with anything more than a faint smile.
“Oh, no,” I say, furrowing my brow. “Don’t tell me you’re one of those guys.”
“Which guys?”
“One of those rich assholes who likes to shout at people because it makes him feel important.”
He reaches for one of the wineglasses, takes a sip, then looks at me in silent contemplation.
“Why aren’t you saying anything?”
“I’m trying to remember the last time someone called me an asshole to my face.”
“And?”
“It’s never happened.”
“Probably because everyone’s scared of you…because you’re an asshole.”
When he only studies me without comment, I send him a winning smile.
“Regretting asking me to marry you already, aren’t you? I could’ve told you I was a pain in the butt back at the shop, but watching you figure it out for yourself has been so much more fun. Would you mind if I tried a sip of that? Sophie forgot my martini, and as she’s probably sobbing into your mashed potatoes at the moment, I doubt I’ll see it any time soon.”
Without waiting for his answer, I grab the other wineglass from the table and lift it to my lips. Then I swallow a mouthful of something so rich, delicious, and decadent, my eyes widen.
“Holy s**t,” I breathe, astonished. “What is this?”
“Chateau d’Yquem,” comes the amused reply. “It’s a French white. Do you like it?”
I laugh. “Like it? I want to have its babies! This stuff is incredible!” Just to make sure, I drink more, then nod. “Yep, it’s the best thing I’ve ever put into my mouth.”
When I realize how that sounded, heat rises in my cheeks.
The heat grows hotter when Callum murmurs, “I’m sure we can find something better for you to put in your mouth, Emery.”
I have to brace both feet flat against the floor so I remain upright in my chair. “Okay, you’re gonna have to turn it down, Mr. McCord, because I’m not emotionally equipped to deal with all of this before I’ve even had my chicken salad.”
Lifting his brows, he says innocently, “All of this?”
I sigh. “There you go again, hunting for praise. You know exactly what I’m talking about. All of that.” I wave a hand in his direction, indicating his face, body, and general hotness overload.
“Are you trying to pay me a compliment? Because if so, you’re failing miserably.”
“Grin at me like that again, and I’ll kick you in the shin.”
Laughing softly, he tilts his head back and drinks from his wineglass. I watch in helpless fascination as his Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows.
How is such a simple thing so devastating? If I had even a smidgen of this man’s looks, I’d never step away from a mirror.
I finish the rest of the delectable wine in a few big gulps, then set the glass back onto the table with a flourish. A nice buzz is setting in, which should help me navigate the rest of this conversation.
Considering my brain checked out a while back, I’ve got to rely on something.
Sophie arrives with a large glass bottle of overpriced water. She twists off the cap with shaking hands. She pours for Callum first, then me, her gaze lowered and her face red.
I say gently, “Thank you, Sophie.”
She jerks, looks at me with wide eyes, then swallows. “Oh. Um. You’re welcome.” She turns to Callum. “I-is there anything else I can get for you, sir?”
“Just the wine with the main course.”
“Yes. Of course. I won’t forget.”
She turns to go but turns back when I say her name.
“Yes?”
My smile is genuine. “I just wanted to tell you that you’re doing a great job.”
She couldn’t look more shocked if I smacked her right across the face.
She says tentatively, “Really?”
- Writer
