Page 69 of The Auction
“I don’t want to talk about the farm,” I said, quietly.
Just then a woman, fortyish, short brown hair, dressed in black pants, crisp white button down shirt and a black vest approached the table with a smile. “Hi, I’m Susan, I’llbe your server. Have you had a chance to check out our wine list yet?”
Oh, shit. There was a test. Homework. We were supposed to be looking at the wine list this whole time, and like an idiot, I’d been sitting on my hands.
“Oh, my gosh, that’s such a pretty flower,” Susan said, gushing over my corsage.
“Thank you,” I offered, resisting the urge to hide it under the table. Like maybe it was too old fashioned or something, but I still liked it.
“Hey, Susan,” Creed said, easily. “It’s my wife’s birthday tonight.”
“Happy birthday!” she said immediately to me.
“Thank you. Again.”
That was weird. I couldn’t remember the last time a stranger wished me happy birthday.
“We’re going to start off with a bottle of your best champagne. We’ll see if she likes it.”
“Excellent! Let me get that started for you, and I’ll have Miguel bring you some fresh bread.”
I waited until Susan walked away.
“Champagne,” I hissed, leaning over the table. “That’s going to be expensive. Did you even look at what the best costs?”
“I did,” he said. “I checked out this place online while I was booking the reservation. We’re good. This is a special occasion.”
“What if I don’t like champagne?”
“Everyone likes it. It’s fizzy water. What’s not to like?”
I fumbled for the large menu in front of me. I also had checked out the menu online, but having all these choices presented in front of me seemed more intimidating now.
The prices! Holy fucking shit.
“We can’t afford this,” I muttered. “I mean seriously, I don’t know what expectations you have for a sugar beet crop, but it’s not steak dinner money.”
Creed chuckled. “We can afford it tonight.”
I continued to study the menu like I was cramming for a test. Susan was going to be back any minute. She was going to ask me to decide. How the heck was I supposed to figure out what I wanted when I had all this to choose from?
“You want me to order for you?”
I picked my head up from the menu.
“Not in the dick way, like I need to choose for you, but you seem a little overwhelmed. I think I know what you like. I’ll just order for us.”
“You’ve been paying attention to what I like?”
“Yep,” he said, smugly.
Herb had watched me grimace over broccoli my entire life and had never once clued into the fact that I did not like broccoli.
“Prove it,” I challenged, dropping my menu at the end of the table.
Miguel dropped off some bread rolls and fresh butter and Creed immediately dug in. I wanted to wait for the main meal. Also, I was planning on ordering desert. Any rolls we didn’t eat, I could just sneak into the small canvas tote I’d brought along with me. It carried a brush, April’s compact and some tissues.
“So, what are we going to talk about if we’re not going to talk about the farm?”
