The aromas that hit me when we stop at the restaurant make my stomach growl with excitement. I cannot recall the last time I went to a restaurant. Now I am not only at a restaurant, but I am also here on a date.
“Milady,” Logan makes a silly bow as he holds open the door for me.
“Thank you, kind sir.” I play along as I get out and hook my arm through his.
“I hope you like steak,” he grins when we follow our waiter to our table.
“I’m vegan,” I pretend to gasp and slap my fingers over my mouth.
“Fine,” he rolls his eyes at me, “you can have my onion rings.”
I look up at him laughing, and he bends over and steals a quick kiss before we sit at our table.
Gratefully I accept the menu from the waiter and look at it. Maybe I should try the ribs? Rather not. Eating ribs is not an elegant pr
