Page 19 of Something that Could Last

Since I rarely ever drink wine, I have no idea what to order. So I don’t risk appearing unsophisticated, I simply say, “I'll have the same, please.”

The waiter turns his attention to Jacob and Luke. “And for the gentlemen?”

“What do you have on tap?” Luke asks.

“We have over a dozen handcrafted, locally brewed selections,” the waiter replies proudly. “They are listed on the back of the wine menu.” He reaches for the tall, thin menu standing up in the center of our table and hands it to Luke. The guys place their orders and the waiter scurries off to retrieve our drinks.

“This place is unreal,” Tiff gushes as she picks up her menu.

“Yeah, I'm glad we found it,” Jacob replies. “I was looking for somewhere unforgettable to take you,” he says directly to me.

“Thank you. I can't believe I've never been here before. It's beautiful.”

“The pleasure's all mine.” He smiles at me, but can't hide the fire in his eyes at the mention of pleasure. I squirm in my seat, his words and his voice licking up my spine and causing goosebumps to prickle my arms. I avert my gaze to study my menu, needing a distraction from Jacob's effortless sensuality. I'll never make it through dinner if I don't squelch the fire building inside me.

The waiter returns with our drinks and a loaf of dark brown bread on a wooden board. Tentatively, I take a sip of my wine. The sweet crispness hits my tongue and I’m surprised at how delicious it tastes. I want to down the whole glass, but then that would defeat the purpose of trying to appear refined. I don't want Jacob to think I'm just some hillbilly who can only guzzle her alcohol like a pledge at a frat party. Don't get me wrong, I've chugged my share of rot-gut from a mason jar, but he doesn't need to know that, and he certainly doesn’t need to see it.

Jacob and Luke are enmeshed in their own conversation so I take this opportunity to lean over and whisper to Tiff. “Where are the prices? I don’t know what any of this costs.”

She bows her head towards me as I bring my glass to my lips to take another drink. “That's what super fancy restaurants do when everything is uber expensive,” she explains. “I’ve heard that nothing on this menu costs less than fifty bucks,” she whispers back, and I nearly spit my Moscato all over the table.

I choke on my drink and begin to cough, drawing the attention of our dates. Tiff pats me on the back, suppressing a smile at my unseemly reaction. Diners at nearby tables glance over at us, wondering what all the commotion is about.

“Are you okay?” Jacob asks, his face etched with worry.

“I'm fine,” I squeeze out between coughs. “Just got choked.” I take another drink of wine to clear my throat and hopefully numb the pain of embarrassment. I just want to crawl under the table and die.

“Here, take a drink of water.” He pushes my glass of ice water towards me and I do as he’s instructed. “Better?” His sincerity is palpable and warms my body. Or maybe that's the alcohol.

“Yes, thank you.”

“Do you know what you're going to order?” he asks once I recover.

“Not yet. I'm not really sure what I want.” I’m freaking out a little over the prices. At least the menu isn't in French and I can actually pronounce the names. “What are you having?” I deflect to take the attention off myself.

“I think I'm going to go with the filet mignon and lobster tail combo. I hear their steaks are excellent. I hope so because I'm starving.”

“Me, too,” Luke chimes in. “I'm pretty sure I burned, like, ten thousand calories today.”

Tiff titters next to me. “Babe, I don't think that's even possible.” She is playing her part tonight, and she’s playing it well.

Luke smiles at her feigned naiveté. “Well, maybe not that many, but close,” he jokes. He’s fallen right into her trap and doesn’t even know it yet.

I drain the rest of my wine, skimming the menu for the simplest thing they have, knowing that Jacob will insist on paying. I don’t want to seem like I’m taking advantage of him so I peruse the salad selections, hoping that fifty-dollar minimum Tiff mentioned doesn’t apply to them, too. Surely a bowl of lettuce can’t bethatexpensive. My teeth dig into my lip as my eyes scan over each option trying to form the most economical strategy.

“Abby,” Jacob says, leaning towards me as if to tell me a secret. I gaze up at him, releasing my lip from between my teeth and lean in to hear him better. “Order whatever you want.” He gives me a knowing look and smiles at me softly, not with pity, but with affection.

It's a good thing because I can't stand pity. After my dad died and my mom spiraled into addiction, I had to endure people's sympathy and hear how sorry they felt for me, followed by their self-righteous comments behind my back. “What a shame,” and “Bless her heart.” If I never hear those two sentences until the day I take my last breath, it won't be long enough. I look away, unable to meet his gaze. Not for the first time, I'm ashamed of my poverty and embarrassed that he can sense what my disquiet is about.

“Seriously, I just want you to have a good time and not worry about a thing,” he declares. “Let me spoil you,” he adds with another of his crooked grins.

I can't help but smile back at him. Nobody has ever spoiled me. At least not since my father passed away. “And if you try to order a dainty little salad,” he admonishes, closing his menu and relaxing back in his chair, “I’ll just have to order for you.” His challenging tone is softened by his mischievous grin.

“Okay,” I acquiesce.Damn, why is that such a turn-on?

“Would you like another glass of wine?”

I nod my head. “Please.” I need something to cool my libido after experiencing Jacob’s take charge attitude.

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