The Witch Stone - Emily Oakes Page 0,55
His firm arm was warm and comforting. She had to ignore an urge to squeeze his considerable bicep. They descended the creaky staircase.
A sleek black muscle car of some sort waited in the saturated car park. Brenna had never been big on car names, but she liked the heck out of it. Ronan opened the passenger door as Brenna excitedly jumped in. Ronan whirled around to the driver’s side and hopped in.
“This is a great car.” Brenna marveled at the smooth interior and ran her hand over the dashboard.
“Thanks, I knew you’d like it,” Ronan said, as he started up the car.
“Oh, so if my favorite car was say, a Diablo Lamborghini you would’ve shown up in one of those?” she asked, looking at him slyly.
“Well, you’ll never know now, will you?” Ronan laughed as he pulled out of the car park. For the whole drive, Brenna stared out the window, trying to hide a wide smile.
After driving for nearly ten minutes they came to a stop outside The Hot Pot, making Brenna cringe, remembering they only served spicy food and she didn’t want to be gassy or unladylike when she was in Ronan’s company. Not yet anyway. He hopped out of the car and rushed to Brenna’s side and opened the door for her. Chivalry was alive and well tonight.
They rushed arm in arm into the crowded restaurant, engulfed by a rush of hot air. Brenna shook her head, which had gotten more than a little damp from the short walk from the car. She just knew the stuffy air in her would cause havoc with her hair, sending it into fizzy chaos. Meanwhile, the rain had made Ronan’s long dark hair, which was neatly tied back, shine.
A waitress approached them smiling sweetly. “Table for two?” she asked, batting her eyelids at Ronan.
“Yes, thank you. We don’t want to be greedy.” Ronan replied.
The waitress chuckled and walked briskly toward a free table in the back of the restaurant.
“Now, see this button here?” The waitress pointed to a button on the wall. “Because you guys are out of view, press this and somebody will be over to take your order.”
She pulled a pad and pencil out of her apron. “Would you like any drinks?”
“Bring us a bottle of your best champagne,” Ronan said, smiling at Brenna. The waitress nodded, scribbling something on her pad then passed them a couple of menus and walked away, her long ponytail flicking from side to side. Brenna and Ronan took a seat opposite each other. They flipped open their menus. Brenna read the word spicy in every meal description. Ronan looked at her from over his menu.
“Sorry I couldn’t take you somewhere nicer. This is the best place in town.”
“Oh, this place is great. I’ve been here once before. I know there isn’t much selection here in Oakwood. But it’s a nice place.”
The smiling waitress returned with a bottle of champagne, an ice bucket, and two champagne flutes. She placed the glasses down and popped open the wine, poured them an equal glass each. Ronan thanked her as she placed the remainder of the wine into the ice and sashayed away.
“Have you decided what you want yet?” Ronan said as he took a sip from his glass.
“Yeah I’m going to have a burrito and some chili fries,” Brenna said, shutting her menu. She picked up her glass and gulped it a little fast.
“That’s an interesting choice,” Ronan said. “I’m going to have the chili with rice.”
“Good choice,” Brenna said, smiling, “I had that the last time I was here.”
Ronan pressed the button to signal the waitress. A few minutes later she appeared holding a pad and pen.
“Ready to order?” she said, trying to mask the stressed tone in her voice with a smile but not quite succeeding. There were so many people in the restaurant, their loud chattering was beginning to give Brenna a headache. They both gave the waitress their orders and waited for her to leave.
Ronan poured Brenna another glass of wine. She stared at him and found herself settling in his presence. He exuded calm. “So, you said you were going to explain everything to me.”
“Yes. I thought you’d want to eat first.”
“Why’s that?”
“You’ve been asleep the whole day, you must be hungry.”
“How do you know that?” Brenna’s cheeks burned.
“Don’t be embarrassed. When you have what you think of as dreams, your body doesn’t get any sleep.”
“You’re serious?” Brenna pursed her lips.
“No. Because you aren’t dreaming. You’re being shown something that