that’s refreshing.
Theo clears his throat. Glances longingly at his empty wineglass, as if he hopes it would magically refill too. “Well. I—”
“Are you two ready to order dinner?”
I startle, jerking my head up to find the server smiling at me, his gaze smoldering. He’s rather flirtatious. “Oh, I forgot…” I glance over at the menu sitting discarded beside me.
“Grab us another bottle of wine and we’ll be ready to order when you come back,” Theo tells him, his voice bossy. Demanding.
Wow, that was kind of hot.
The server shoots him an annoyed glance as he says, “Of course. I’ll be right back.”
The moment he’s gone, Theo lets out an irritated…
Growl?
“What’s wrong?” I ask him, reaching for the menu and cracking it open.
“He’s flirting with you,” he gripes. “Or did you not notice?”
“I guess so.” I’m surprised Theo did. And he sounds almost…
Jealous?
What in the world is going on here?
“Asshole,” he mutters as he grabs his menu and jerks it open, like he wants to rip it in half. “What are you going to get to eat?”
“I’m not sure.” I lift the menu up a little, peeking over the edge so I can study him. Theo appears surly and discontent. He’s scowling as he reads the menu, his hair falling over his forehead, almost into his eyes. He swipes at the thick strands distractedly, his upper lip curling the slightest bit and my lips part.
Maybe I’ve had too much wine, but Theo’s—doing something for me tonight. Sexually. I haven’t had sex with someone in a while. Too long, really. I know he’s going through the same thing. I’m guessing we’re both full of repressed urges that are bubbling closer and closer to the surface.
The server returns a few minutes later with more wine. He refills each of our glasses and then takes our orders. Theo asks for pan-seared scallops. I order garlic chicken. The server tries to engage me in light conversation, but I offer up one-word answers until he finally takes the hint and leaves.
“That guy won’t let up,” Theo says, still sounding a little growly. “What a dick.”
“I’m not interested in him,” I tell Theo, reaching across the table to rest my hand over his.
Theo’s gaze lifts, meeting mine, and now he’s the one who’s smoldering. We look into each other’s eyes for a too long to be thinking friendly thoughts moment. “I think I’m drunk,” he finally says, slipping his hand out from beneath mine.
Blame it on the alcohol. That’s a good excuse. Though he’s probably right. I’m just—putting feelings onto Theo that have no business being there.
Right. Of course. That’s it.
As the evening continues, we make a few mistakes.
First, we drink too much.
Second, we laugh. A lot. Plus, a man who makes me laugh? One of my absolute weaknesses.
Third, we don’t eat enough bread. I’ve always heard that bread soaks up alcohol quickly, but Theo is exhibiting excellent control when it comes to food tonight and I’ve been avoiding carbs lately so…
Yeah. Here we are, arguing about leaving a tip for our server. Theo wants to give him five bucks.
“That’s not enough,” I tell him, letting my irritation shine through. “Just because he flirted with me…”
“Fine. I’ll leave him five dollars and you leave him your phone number. That should be more than enough tip for him,” Theo says grimly.
What in the world?
“I’m not giving him my number.” Now I’m kind of pissed. “Why would I do that?”
“He’s totally into you. I’m surprised he’s not sporting a boner every time he gets near our table,” he bites out.
“Please.” I wave a hand. “I’m not interested.”
“You’re extra nice to him,” he throws at me like a jealous boyfriend.
“It’s called being polite, jackass.” I grip the edge of the table, glaring at Theo. “There is a difference, you know. Or are you going to be like all those other guys?”
Well. Those were fighting words I just tossed at him.
“What the hell are you talking about? What other guys?”
“Don’t play dumb. You know what I mean,” I say.
I watch as he scratches out a more than generous tip for our server onto the receipt and signs his name with a flourish, dropping the pen onto the table. He grabs his credit card and slips it into his slim black wallet before opening up the jacket he just shrugged back on and tucking the wallet into the pocket within.
“I don’t know what you mean, Kelsey. Spell it out for me,” he says, leaning back in his chair.
Ooh, I’m angry. I don’t even