Page 42 of Resisting the Grump

Granted, I got into the industry because of him, but that’s because his cooking spoiled me rotten, and I knew by the time I was sixteen that I never wanted to have another bad meal. Ironically, I’d had many as a result of my career path, but I was batting above average with the added benefit of getting to try lots of new places.

But if I’d learned anything since meeting Avery, it was that new places were far more exciting and inviting when you had someone to share them with. So I was determined to show her an incredible night.

Because something told me she was worth risking my bachelorhood for.

And even though she was too good for a scoundrel like me, she made me want to be a gentleman, and I was grateful for the chance.

T W E N T YT H R E E

- Avery -

The restaurant was really stylish. Dark with flickering candles in red glass votives. Hindu art. And the food was unbelievable. Not only was it served in beautiful golden bowls, but it was so fragrant and flavorful it felt like all my senses were feasting.

“So tell me again what we just had,” I said, glancing at my clean plate.

“I love that you want to know,” Oliver said, his eyes on mine.

“Of course I do.” I pointed at one of the empty bowls between us where the chicken in green sauce used to be. “This was the Gorkhali, right?”

He nodded like I was a star student.

“And this one?” I asked, pointing to the next bowl.

“That was the Ledo Bedo.”

“Too good,” I said, leaning back in the maroon velvet booth, which matched the dark walls and made the gold accents on the traditional plates and artwork pop. Best of all, dining with an expert meant I didn’t have to make any decisions at all.

Admittedly, when we first sat down, part of me felt like I should try to have an opinion about what we ought to eat and drink. But he seemed happy to take the lead, so I let him. And I was glad I did. It was fun to be out with someone who wanted to treat me, someone who didn’t make me feel like I was on trial or needed to prove I was worthy of his company. And the fact that that someone came in Oliver-shaped packaging…. Well, I wasn’t complaining.

“What about the little dips that came with the poppadoms at the start?” I asked.

“Mint sauce, mango chutney, and onion chutney,” he said. “Did you have a favorite?”

“Mixing them together like I saw you doing?”

He smiled. “Any interest in dessert?”

I met his eyes across the candlelit table, and a warm flutter fired in my belly. “Do you want dessert?”

“Immediately,” he said, his gaze darkening as the electric heat between us intensified.

Was he suggesting what I thought he was suggesting?

He reached for his wine glass, gave the last sip of his Syrah a swirl, and swallowed it before licking his lips as he looked at mine. “You should use the bathroom before we go.”

I could tell by the way he said it that it wasn’t a suggestion, and I fought the urge to squirm in my seat.

“I insist.”

His hunger for me was so intense it was making me wet.

“Okay,” I said quietly. “But I want to split the bill.”

“Maybe another time,” he said, his black cashmere V-neck hugging his upper body in all the right places. “I already took care of it.”

“When?” He literally hadn’t left my side all night.

“This afternoon.”

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