Page 48 of The Woman in the Garage

My mind flashed back to her house, to her straddling me, to the soft skin of her ass in my hands, her little moans in my ears, the wetness of her pussy on my fingers…

“Oh my God,” Dasha said, eyes round. “If this is what wine is supposed to taste like, I’ve never had wine before.”

“Uncle Ant knows all the best,” I agreed, swirling my glass on the table, then taking a sip.

“So, since you had such good choices at Lucky’s, what is the best this place has to offer?” she asked, picking up her menu.

I ordered the Alfredo, she ordered the eggplant parm, and we agreed to share.

Though I suddenly wished I’d ordered every kind of pasta on the menu as she took her first bite and let out a moan that was damn near erotic.

“Oh my God. Wait… why is that so good? Like, the noodles even.”

“It’s made fresh daily,” I explained.

“Wait… thepastais made fresh daily?”

“The pasta, the mozzarella, the ricotta, the bread… Basically, anything that can be made daily is made here.”

“I’ve never had fresh pasta before. I always just, you know, drop the boxed pasta into the water. Wait, you said you can cook. Do you make fresh pasta?”

“I don’t often, but I can. I worked in the kitchen here as a teen. Most of us did. So I learned all sorts of cooking tips and tricks, much to my mother’s dismay.”

“Why dismay?”

“Because she’d been teaching me for years and I wasn’t exactly the best student. But in one summer here, I learned the shit she tried to show me.”

“So, what is your signature dish? If you had to impress someone, what would you make them?”

“I make a mean manicotti,” I told her, pushing my plate closer when she reached to twirl another forkful. I didn’t even care if she left me any at that point. I was just loving watching her enjoy.

“Do you bake too, or is it strictly cooking?”

“I never got super into baking, but I can make some good brownies. My sister used to demand I make them monthly back when we both lived at home.”

“Brownies are my favorite dessert. Especially if there is some vanilla ice cream and whipped cream involved.”

“And cherries?”

“I mean, what kind of monster would turn down cherries?”

I had sudden visions of bringing her à la mode brownies. In bed. Naked.

Hell, I was about to suggest we stop for the ingredients on the way to her place when we finished up our meal.

“No, you have to let me chip in at least,” she said as I slipped cash into the bill binder.

“Absolutely not,” I said, slipping out of the booth.

“But—“

“But nothing. This is where, if I were a cheesier man, I might say that the pleasure of your company is all the payment I need.”

“Well, of course, you aren’t that cheesy,” she said, shooting that big smile at me. “Though, secretly, I kind of like cheesy,” she added as we made our way out onto the deck. “This must be nice in the warmer weather,” she said, looking out at the water.

“Best place in town,” I agreed. “They usually bring in live music too. They close for the 4thof July, and the whole family comes to watch the fireworks over the water.”

“That sounds amazing,” she said as we made our way toward the steps.

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