iceberg lettuce?”
She sneered, looking absolutely disgusted. “Iceberg lettuce has zero nutritional value. Did you know that?”
“I didn’t.”
“Iceberg only has forty IUs of Vitamin A.” She rattled off the data she kept in that lovely head of hers. “Compare that to romaine lettuce which has six hundred and eighty, and it’s a no-brainer.”
“What’s an IU?” I asked, amused.
“International units. Besides, it tastes like nothing. You might as well eat a piece of paper.”
“I see. And how does romaine stack up to arugula in the IU category?”
She leaned forward and took a sip of her Bloody Mary. “Better in the vitamin category actually, but arugula tastes the best.”
“Really?”
“You don’t think so?”
She seemed perplexed by my lack of lettuce knowledge.
“I’m not that particular, though I’m not a fan of iceberg either. We have that in common.”
I couldn’t help but bask in the flush of pink that filled her cheeks. Why that statement would cause her to blush, I have no idea. But she blushed over the smallest of things, I’d noticed. Still, she was talking much easier than usual, so I tried to keep that going. I wanted her to feel more at ease with me. For some reason, she seemed so today.
“And you’re happy to have your bicycle back? It rides okay?”
Her green eyes brightened. “Like nothing had happened to it at all.” She smiled so wide my heart skipped a beat. “Thank you,” she added timidly. “Especially for the wheel reflectors.”
“Safety first,” I said with a wink and sipped my Bloody Mary.
She had no idea but I’d ordered the biggest, brightest, safest reflectors possible to go on her bike. In addition, I’d made sure to replace her tires with wide-rimmed ones for easier balance and durability. The thought of something happening to Isadora, of her getting hurt again, had my protective instincts on high alert. It was in that moment at the bike shop where I’d interrogated the guy behind the counter over every detail of the new safety features that I realized I’d never been this insanely protective over a woman before. Without any attempt on her part, I was completely entranced.
This was no fly-by fascination. This was hardcore witchery. Oddly, she wasn’t flirting or being overtly friendly or doing anything other women have done to lure me in. She was simply being her lovely self.
“Tell me, what is it you have against cars?”
Her smile morphed into that serious expression, the same one she’d worn when she conjured up lettuce nutrition facts. “Cars are dangerous.”
I laughed, which caused her to frown. “And bicycles are safer?”
“Yes, they are. Did you know that over one million people die every year in car accidents?”
“No, I didn’t.”
“Stop laughing at me. It’s over three thousand per day.”
“Is that why you didn’t want to ride with Ruben the other night to the hospital?”
“Yes.” She sipped her drink again, avoiding my gaze. “But I know if anyone’s a safe driver, it’s probably Ruben. I was right. He was a very careful driver.”
“I’m a safe driver.”
She huffed a laugh. “Do I need to remind you that you hit me with your car?”
I leaned forward on the table, not bothered by that little fact at all. “But I had been driving for a day and a half straight. And it was quite dark. And you have to admit, you were wearing dark clothing.”
“You’re right,” she agreed after a moment.
“Though it pains me to have hurt you in any way, I have to admit I’m quite happy that I did hit you that night,” I said, letting my voice drop low. “Not that I hit you, just that I met you.”
Her blush darkened her cheeks again while she stared down, stirring her Bloody Mary. She bit her lip, and I couldn’t help but notice how her lower lip was quite full. Much more than her upper.
“So you don’t drive at all?” I asked.
She shook her head. “I have a passport for travel and identification.”
“You never even got your license?” This was unreal. I’d never heard of an adult not getting a driver’s license.
“No need.” She shrugged.
Our waiter delivered our appetizer, postponing my interrogation. I watched her face when she noticed the lettuce sprinkled around the fried oysters was arugula. She looked at me with an appreciative smile, and there it went again. My pulse tripled just from making her smile. There’d been a lot of things that made my pulse quicken over the ages, but a woman’s smile hadn’t been one of them. Till now.
“Dive in.” I gestured for her