Page 52 of A Very Titan Christmas
Rachel shushed him and gestured to the server to continue.
“The forest floor broth of mushroom consommé follows. Might I suggest a light-bodied Vermont white wine?”
“Yes.” Her eyes danced. “Let’s do the wine pairing with every course.”
“I mean, I have to be able to drive through the mountains,” Bryce pointed out. “Tiny plates, tiny glasses?”
The server laughed like Bryce was oh, so funny. Rachel snickered then listened as the server detailed the remaining courses of trout crudo, smoked duck, butter walnut agnolotti, and sous-vide tenderloin.
When they were finally alone again, Bryce leaned closer to her. “All right, I’ve bitten off way more than I can chew. What the hell is happening?”
“Don’t ruin it.”
“The guy said a hundred words for what I think is mushroom soup, trout, and beef.”
“He did, and I’m loving this.” She reached across the table and took his hand. “Honestly, this is the coolest meal I’ve ever had. Thanks, Bryce.”
The maple syrup snowflakes arrived. They were nothing like she had expected and had little swirls of whipped maple-syrup-sweetened butter on airy pieces of snowflake-shaped toast. She nibbled hers. Bryce ate his in a bite.
“I don’t even have to chew.” He raised his palms as if to ask what the fuss was about. “It’s like fancy toddler food.”
She laughed because he was not wrong. “So fancy.”
As fast as the plates of snowflakes arrived, they were replaced with the cheese course. “This is delicious too.” She sipped the wine and leaned back. Her nerves had settled, and the dreamy excitement from the carriage ride and the silly banter about over-the-top food had vanished. Rachel was left simply sitting across from a man who didn’t fit in with this fancy restaurant. He was rough and tumble, powerful, and sexy. Her heart squeezed.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he said, his voice low.
She noticed her heartbeat and the heavy thud of her pulse. “Like what?”
“Like you’re trying to memorize me.”
She blinked. He was right. She was trying to cement everything she knew about him and every moment of this evening into her memory. She noted the tight crinkle at the corners of his eyes, as though he had stared down the world and was wary of it. She saw the hardness in his set jaw and thought of the way he worked to keep her safe from whatever unspoken threats loomed.
“I’m not,” she said. “I mean, I don’t have to. I know you. I’ve always known you. You’re the same Bryce as before, but older.”
“Not true. I’m not the same teenage kid. And neither are you. We’re adults who’ve lived life. Who have real responsibilities and real wants and needs.”
The fire popped and crackled, casting shadows across his face. She could see every line, every shift in his expression.
“Whatever this is between us,” she whispered, “I know it can’t go anywhere. You don’t have to tell me that. Okay? We live in the here and now.”
He nodded slowly. “I don’t have any experience with serious and stable, and even if I did, there’s no telling where my job will take me.”
“You don’t have to explain anything.” Her cheeks warmed. “I’m not even asking for anything.”
“You keep looking at me like that, Rach, and you’re going to realize you’re asking for a whole lot of everything.”
The blush in her cheeks caught fire. She dipped her gaze, unable to meet his hard stare that said way more than she was willing to. Rachel’s heart thudded. The idea of being with Bryce made every part of her body come alive. Knowing that it was temporary immediately chilled that lust-driven need. “I just want dinner.” Lies. All lies.
“I didn’t take you here to get you in bed.”
Her nerves had returned. “Oh, I don’t know. You once ice skated to get me into the back seat of your car.”
He laughed. The simmering tension was leveling out. She could breathe easier. The mushroom soup arrived in a bowl the size of a shot glass. Bryce raised an eyebrow and made a funny face once the server stepped away, ending their serious conversation about what might happen. At least for now.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
The dreary morningcame far too quickly. If Bryce had slept, he hadn’t realized it. He had replayed last night’s dinner a hundred times. Each time he analyzed it, he either came up with reasons he should never have taken Rachel out or, on the complete other spectrum, why he should not have returned to his cabin. Alone. So very alone.
