Page 55 of Inked Craving

“That’s pretty smart. Would you pump in the car?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not good at this whole multitasking thing.”

“Now that’s a lie.”

I closed the door behind her and moved around to the driver’s seat. I leaned across the center console, kissed her softly, and as she grinned at me, I pulled away, and we made our way to the restaurant.

It was a little French bistro. One where we could indulge in all the baguettes and salted butter we wanted—just enjoy ourselves. It was a new place that had popped up in the city recently, and while Paige and I tended to go to barbecues or Japanese restaurants up here more often than not, this sounded like a nice place to relax.

“Oh,” she whispered as she walked in.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing. I just…I think one of Colton’s friends owns this place.”

I cursed under my breath. “Shit. I didn’t even think about that. I mean, I knew it wasn’t the place he used to run, but I didn’t realize.”

“No, it’s fine. It’s hard to throw a rock and not hit one of those places. It’s a small chef community up here. It’s growing by leaps and bounds, but Colton knows a few people.”

“We can go.”

“Are you kidding me? I didn’t come here before because of Colton, but he’s not going to keep me away from what I hear is an immaculate filet.”

“Damn. Now I want a filet.”

“What were you going to get?”

“Not sure. Snails?”

“I love escargot. And you can’t blame me.”

“You’re right. And frogs’ legs. When I went to Paris right after college on a school trip for my research grant, I swear I tried every single little thing that would have grossed me out as a kid and loved them all.”

“I’m not a huge fan of foie gras,” Paige said as we moved in. “Though I should have probably whispered that in this restaurant.”

“I’m not a huge fan of it either. Don’t worry. We won’t get it.”

“Good, but we are getting the snails.”

“With extra butter, of course.”

“It’s the only way to eat it.”

“So, you’re not going to mind me kissing you after we eat snails?” I said, wincing as I did.

She just beamed. “I think it’ll be fine as long as we eat a filet in between.”

“And butter. Lots of butter, and baguettes, and maybe a French pastry.”

“And now I’m starving. Seriously.”

The hostess sat us at our table, and though we didn’t drink wine, we did have sparkling water and iced tea.

The food was decadent, and we did indeed share an order of snails, two loaves of bread, and the best steak I’ve ever had in my life.

“That’s it. This is our place. We’re going to have to come here for every anniversary.”

“Oh, yes. I mean, we’re going to have to work overtime to afford it every time, but it’ll be worth it.”

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