Page 64 of After We Fall (After We Fall 2)
I slapped his hand down. “Oh, stop. I’m fine with anything. And I certainly don’t belong in a place that’s chic.” I held my shirt away from my body. “I’m sticky and sweaty and gross.”
“On your worst day, you couldn’t be gross.”
I smiled. “Thank you. But are you sure we’re dressed OK?”
“I’m sure. Not too many places have a dress code around here.”
We opted to eat on the restaurant’s patio, and we were seated at a table under a string of party lights and a black and white striped umbrella. It was a table for four, and I was glad when Jack sat next to me instead of across. We ordered drinks—a martini for me and a whiskey on the rocks for him—and while those were being made, we looked over the menu and chose some charcuterie, cheese, and other small plates to eat.
Our drinks arrived, and the logo on the cocktail napkins reminded me of something I wanted to ask him. “Hey, what does a beet look like when it’s picked?”
He arched a brow at me over his whiskey glass. “Why?”
“Because I need to draw one.” I flipped the napkin over and took a pen from my purse. “Show me. Draw three of them.”
He gave me a funny look but sketched a trio of beets on the napkin. “Like this?”
“Perfect.” Biting my lip, I added a little banner across them and inked the words Can’t Beet Valentini Brothers Farm on it. A little shyly, I turned it to face him.
He groaned, but he smiled too. “What is that?”
“Just an idea for a logo. Wouldn’t that be cute on your tablecloths and your banner? On t-shirts? Shopping bags?” I was getting excited.
“Are those beets me, Pete, and Brad?”
I nodded happily. “We could even give the beets little faces!”
“You’re killing me.”
“I’m branding you.” I took the napkin back and stuck it and the pen in my purse. “And I had lots of ideas today.”
“I had some too. But none of them involved beets.”
Our eyes met, a hot little current passing between us.
He still wants me! My heart beat faster. I’d been nervous that seeing Suzanne today and the blow-up afterward might dampen the fire between us, but it still burned.
We ate quickly.
On the way home, I asked Jack what his favorite meal was. I had this crazy idea I’d try to cook it for him—that would probably give him a laugh.
“Hmm. Probably a steak on the grill. Twice baked potatoes. Some kind of vegetable from our garden.”
Damn. That was a tall order. I’d have to learn to grill. And twice-baked potatoes? What the heck was that? Why would you bake a potato twice? Wasn’t once enough?
He glanced at me. “Why do you ask? Are you going to cook for me?”
“You don’t have to sound so amused.” I frowned slightly. “I think I could do it, but I’m not sure how to work the grill at the cottage.”
“Why? Is it complicated?”
“I don’t know. I asked the property manager how to turn it on but she started talking about charcoal and lighter fluid.” I shook my head. “That sounded dangerous to me.”
He burst out laughing. I’d never get tired of that sound, even if it was at my expense. “Jesus. You really have led a sheltered life.”
“Not that sheltered,” I said defensively.
“Oh no? Let’s play a game.” He gave me a sidelong glance. “I’ll name something, and if you’ve never done it, you have to take off a piece of clothing.”
