Page 38 of Wicked Dares
“My aunt believes she’s a wine connoisseur.”
He smiles at that. “Is she?”
“Not so much, but we let her think she is.”
His smile widens. “Who’s we?”
“My cousins. Aunt Bess’ kids. I… grew up with them. We lived together after my parents passed.”
His smile falters on hearing that. “Sorry about your parents.”
“Thank you. Your… dad seems nice.”
He raises a skeptical brow. “He was nice to you. Usually, he’s… firm.”
“What about your mom?”
He smiles, but a sad look enters his eyes. “I’m not close with my mother. She left when I was nine.”
I instantly feel like I shouldn’t have asked him that. My foot sometimes likes to live in my mouth. “I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be. It wasn’t a bad thing. She wasn’t a good person. I do, however, have the very best stepmom in the world. Sometimes I have a hard time remembering I’m not hers.”
I’ve never heard anyone talk like that about a stepparent. It’s good. It reminds me of how I feel about Aunt Bess. She was in my life and always there for me long before my parents died. My mother wasn’t just her younger sister; she was her best friend. “That’s beautiful.”
He nods. “Yeah. It worked out.” He slides the menu forward, shifting the conversation, and runs his finger over the main section. “I recommend you either try the ravioli or the beef tagliatelle.”
I bite back a smile. “I have actually never had ravioli.”
His eyes bulge. “What? How is that possible? Everyone’s had ravioli.”
“Unless you’re me.”
“You haven’t even tried the crappy kind in a tin?”
I give a tiny shake of my head. “I wouldn’t know the difference between the crappy kind from the good kind. I’ve mainly stuck with spaghetti and lasagna, and of course pizza, when it comes to Italian food.”
It isn’t that I dislike everything else. I just never tried it.
“Right, we’re both having ravioli, then.”
“What if I don’t like it?” I arch my brows, challenging him.
“You’ll like it, especially this one. And you’ll remember it was Levi Vale who gave you your first taste.”
I can’t help but laugh. “Okay. That sounds like a plan.” And my nerves are loosening. Just a little, though.
We’re talking as if we’re two normal people on a date, but there’s an undercurrent of attraction between us not even I can ignore. Even if I could, it would be difficult to look at him and not remember how he devoured me in his bed.
I think he may be thinking the same. It’s the way he looks at me, like he wants to own me again.
Without taking his eyes off me, he signals the waiter, who comes over eager to take our orders. Levi gives it to him and gets him to bring us more wine.
“You’ll like this wine, too,” he says when the waiter returns with two more bottles.
“I certainly hope you’re not trying to get me drunk, Mr. Vale,” I tease. “Because that wouldn’t be good.”
“I swear I’m not. Scout’s honor.”
