Page 67 of Lovesick
Lizbeth leaned back a little. “Oh. I hadn’t thought of that. If it’s easier for you, we can just call this lunch. Doesn’t have to be a date.”
“It’s a date,” I said immediately.
Lizbeth’s lips twitched. The bunched-up muscles in my neck relaxed. A waitress handed us plastic-covered menus, rattled off specials, and disappeared. I skimmed the menu, grateful for a few moments to recover my wits.
“Their butternut ravioli is amazing,” I said. “I’ve tried to mimic it, but I can’t.”
When I glanced up, she was cautiously eyeing her menu.
“Something wrong?” I asked.
“No.” She waved a hand. “I just ... had a weird experience with a date recently when we went to order.”
“Tyler?” I asked. She fought off a smile when I muttered, “Idiot,” under my breath.
“Anything else you recommend?” she asked.
We tossed favorites back and forth, unable to decide, until I set my menu down and said, “Let’s share. I’ll get the butternut ravioli, you get the chicken parm. I hear it’s breathtaking.”
Her gaze tapered. “But you’re vegetarian.”
Taken aback, I stared at her for a moment. “How did you know that?”
She shrugged. “I don’t know. Must have come up in conversation at some point at the coffee shop, or something. I’ll get something we can reallyshare.”
“You don’t have to do that. I can have some of the pasta. Mark says it’s the sauce that really makes it legendary.”
She smiled at me over her menu. “I want to.”
Stunned, I simply leaned back. When was the last time anyone had made a concession to my belief systems? Almost never. Point for Lizbeth, because that could almost be called romantic. After we ordered, she leaned forward. Strands of glimmering red hair tumbled onto her shoulders. I wondered how soft it felt.
“Tell me about your day,” she said.
“My day? Oh. Ah ... I think Mark spoke with the contractors today. It’s official that he’s accepted—”
“No. Not about Mark. Aboutyourday.”
Stupidly, I had to pause for a second. Unzipping myself from Mark wasn’t a natural process, but I appreciated her calling it out so gently. “Right. Well ... I’m trying out a new recipe.”
She brightened. “Oh?”
“Madeleines. They’re finicky, but delicious.”
“Have you always loved baking?” she asked.
Her question forced me to think. Did I enjoy baking? Yes. I enjoyed the challenge and precision of it, just like climbing. Not to mention a delicious and tangible end result. Most of all, I liked that it enabled me to live at Adventura and climb as much as I wanted. Climbing was the real queen here.
“I like baking.”
“Like.” Her eyebrows rose. “Not love?”
Ah, perceptive.
“There’s not much I truly love. I don’t apply the word as liberally as you,” I said with a quick wink. She smiled, but I sensed deep thought behind it. “I’ve only really concentrated on baking lately, though. Once I stopped traveling in a van and lived in one place long enough to focus.”
“You should sell everything you bake.”
I almost choked on my water. “Yeah.” I coughed. “Maybe one day.”
