Page 17 of Loan Wolf
“Oh no, this should be my treat,” Clara said, giving him a sharp look. “You were my trail guide.”
“I don’t mix business with…whatever this is. I’ll charge you properly for that.” Did he knock off the time they’d spent at the peak? Or was the service payment enough? Gabe wasn’t sure what his face was doing when Clara blushed again and returned her gaze to the options.
“We’ll have separate checks,” Clara said firmly to Gillian when the woman returned with water and straws. Even in the air conditioned room, the glasses were starting to sweat in the warm, humid air.
“You folks need more time?” Gillian looked from one to the other like she feared she’d come in at a bad time.
“I’m ready,” Clara said sunnily.
“Sure,” Gabe said. “I’ll get the mushroom burger. Waffle fries. Bacon ranch sauce.”
“Barbeque burger for me, steak fries. Just ketchup.”
Gabe gave his menu to Gillian. When she was gone, he told Clara, “I thought for sure you’d chicken out and get a salad or a gluten-free vegan wrap or something. I notice you didn’t go for the milkshake.”
“I was afraid I’d be too full,” Clara said. Gabe was not sure he’d ever actually seen someone arch an eyebrow until now. “I’m surprised you didn’t try to order for me.”
“Is that what you want?” Gabe challenged. “Someone to order for you and put you in bubble wrap?”
Clara’s eyes narrowed. “You did make me wear a helmet.”
“Aw, did it mess up your hair?”
Clara laughed and then looked thoughtful. “Maybe that’s exactly what I wanted.”
16
CLARA
Clara had eaten at Michelin star restaurants and she was not sure she had ever enjoyed a meal as much as this one.
The food was—she recognized her own snobbishness—rather pedestrian, but she and Gabe had worked up appetites, and it wasn’t often that she indulged in simple carbs and red meat. The fries were too chewy, but the burger was thick and juicy, the sauce was rich, and the company was best of all.
They talked about bikes to start with, and then food, when it was served, and then music. Gabe truly did like punk, but he also enjoyed classic rock, heavy metal, and something he called hard bebop.
“You probably only listen to classical,” Gabe guessed.
“I listen to other things!” Clara protested, but when Gabe pressed, she had to admit, “Taylor Swift.”
Gabe made a gagging noise loud enough that people at the next table looked over in alarm. “I should have known.”
“She’s brilliant,” Clara insisted, a little stung.
“She’s vanilla. Blandly inoffensive in every way. Just like you.”
“I’m not…” Clara couldn’t bring herself to say it out loud, because it was a lie if she thought she wasn’t perfectly vanilla. “I’m sorry I’m so boring.”
“Not boring,” Gabe said quickly. “Just…oh, shit, I’m only going to dig myself deeper if I try. Let’s stick with boring.”
“What’s worse than boring?!” They were both laughing, and Clara couldn’t take anything he said as an insult. She liked that he wasn’t constantly trying to kiss up to her. She liked that he stole her fries and ate them like salty hostages.
She really liked Gabe, she realized, sobering. It wasn’t just that he was sexy and sort of dangerous. He had interesting opinions. He was funny without trying to be a comedian. He was wry and honest, and he didn’t try to be what he wasn’t to impress her. There were depths to him that she wanted to peel back and discover, layer by onion-y layer.
Clara wasn’t used to eating so much food at once, and she slowed down at the end of the burger. “I think there’s an entire cow in here,” she groaned.
“There very well may be,” a cultured voice said from her side.
Clara had been sitting with her back to the door, and she was startled to look up into a familiar face. Not Green Valley familiar. New York familiar. “Madame Twiller?” She dropped what was left of her burger onto her plate and scrubbed her sticky fingers with a frantic napkin so she could stand and greet her dance instructor.
