Page 39 of The Cask

“Who is this by?” I gestured to the artwork.

He stopped and looked at it. “Uh… Nefertiti. She’s a local artist.”

“Did you pick it out or did you have help?”

He narrowed his eyes at me. “I know what you’re getting at, but I picked it out on my own.”

You have no idea what I’m getting at, I thought with a smirk.

I wiggled my finger, beckoning him. “Come here.”

He placed the food on the corner of his desk as I stood. “You don’t have to get up.”

“I want you to sit here,” I told him, pushing him into his chair. I stood behind him, wrapping my arms around his neck and shoulders. With my lips against his ears, I spoke quietly. “Tell me about this painting.”

“You know what you’re doing to me, don’t you?”

I smiled. “Focus for me,” I whispered. “What drew you to the painting?”

“It matched the office furniture I’d already picked out,” he chuckled softly, reaching up and rubbing my arms. “And I couldn’t stop staring at it.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“Why do you ask?” he wondered, tugging at my arm and trying to pull me into his lap.

I sat on his desk instead and crossed my legs. “I felt a connection to it, so I was curious if I was connecting to something you connected to or something your ex picked out.”

“Trying to see if we’re compatible, huh?”

I laughed lightly. “That’s not what I said.”

“It isn’t?”

“No, it isn’t.” I shook my head. “But since you don’t have much time”—I pointed to his computer screen— “I should get on with what I came to say.”

I could see the wheels turning behind those brown eyes as he stared up at me. “What’s up?”

“I came here to grab my lunch and also to talk to you about last night.”

Uncertainty flickered across his face. He placed his hands on my hips and pulled himself as close to his desk as he could get. My knees were in his chest.

“Okay.” He nodded slowly. “Let’s talk about it.”

“I had been drinking last night before we talked,” I started.

“Me too.”

“I just wanted to come over here to make sure things weren’t awkward between us now.”

“Awkward?” His brows furrowed. “Why would it be awkward?”

“It was a first date. We didn’t even kiss on the date. And then we both said some things…” I let my sentence trail off as I uncrossed my legs. “I just wanted to make sure that conversation didn’t change anything between us.”

“It didn’t change anything on my end,” he assured me. “If anything, it gave me better insight about you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Last night, starting with dinner, you were open. And that openness just seemed to continue when we were on the phone.” His hands flexed against my hips. “So, the conversation was just an extension of that. At dinner, I found out more about you and what you like. That night, I found out about you and what you like in a different way.”

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